


It's A Nuclear Show And The Stars Are Gone

by Shopgirl



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shopgirl/pseuds/Shopgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit a danger, some tension, and a dash of disregard for S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol is one hell of a cocktail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mutant Cramp Balls

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for finding your way to this little project. I'm glad you're here. And hey, you look really nice today!
> 
> Before you start, a few things: 1) This is going to be a ten(ish) chapter lil story, so get ready for a little ride and 2) There's going to be a lot of Skimmons. Soon. 
> 
> There isn't a whole lot of Skimmons 'action' in this first chapter, but the first three chapters are written, so they'll be coming at you in quick succession. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it. Yay for Skimmons, yay for S.H.I.E.L.D., yay for everything!

It's late. Time-wise and also deadline-wise, which is exactly the problem. I can't go to bed or eat or shower or even leave the lab until I'm through analysing these stupid samples from some "suspicious fungus" collected by some hikers in Manitoba. 

Sure, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s "better safe than sorry" policy is great when it's saving Fury from having to explain to world leaders that things like alien invasions and destructive emotional outbursts courtesy of accidental superhumans happened right under the noses of the planet's best fixers of international (and occasionally interplanetary) "problems". This policy is far less awesome when it leads to me, in my lab at 1:26 a.m. with only some spores for company. 

I tried to explain to Agent Coulson that this wasn't really my field and that mycology was never my strong suit, but he just did that sort of pleasant half-smile, half tight-lipped, 'barely-tolerating-your-nonsense' thing with his face before he squeezed my shoulder and told me that he and Director Fury appreciated my dedication. Right.

When I realize that I'm in it for the long-haul, I shrug off my lab coat and loosen the tie around my neck. If there's one thing I've learned in my time in labs, it's that there's little point keeping up appearances for the likes of spores. Rolling my shoulders and stretching a bit, I try to mentally prepare myself for another hour or so of thorough inspection of what is almost definitely just a harmless mutation of Daldinia concentrica (commonly referred to as King Albert Cakes or, more crudely, "Cramp Balls"). 

I've surrendered myself to my boring reality for the night when I hear the door of one of the vehicles outside of the lab close. Skye is already crossing the floor to the spiral staircase at the other end of the room, laptop cradled in her arms, when I catch her eye. I notice immediately that she looks tired and a little disheveled, like maybe she's fallen asleep in the backseat of the car. She doesn't seem to notice me, and begins climbing the spiral steps. Her shoulders seem unmistakably "slumped" as she rises up the steps and out of sight.

I'll be the first to admit that I have, at best, a tenuous grasp on the discipline of psychology, but it hasn't escaped even my attention that something's been 'off' with Skye the last few days. By which I mean she's been noticeably less confrontational with Ward and she's barely even mentioned any field work that's beyond her capabilities and/or training in the last week, maybe more. Fitz says he thinks she's just settling into her seat on the bus, but she's been spending a lot of time in that car and she looks decidedly unsettled. 

Before I can fixate on Skye's odd behavior, the timer on the counter buzzes, demanding my attention. I turn back to the samples, still not exactly sure what it is I should looking for. But then, it notice something a little…off.

Upon closer inspection, it appears as though this might not be a harmless Cramp Ball mutation after all.

-

I am not what you might call 'athletic'. 

 

It's true that you have to possess a certain degree of athleticism to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but they tend to give a little leeway to squints, as we're here to out-science our adversaries, not outrun them.

As I reach the top step after sprinting out of the lab and bounding up the stairs, I begin to think that maybe I ought to put a little bit more effort into fitness before I'm due for my next physical. Panting, I step into the large room at the top of the stairs and bend over, placing my hands on my knees and trying to catch my breath.

"For the first time in history, fungus is literally breathtaking," I mutter, shaking my head.

When I feel like I've regained my composure and control of my own lungs, I straighten and make my way towards the front of the plane to Coulson's office. It's only after I knock three times that I remember that it's after one in the morning and it's very unlikely that Agent Coulson is in his office. 

For a moment, I consider whether or not I should wake him. I mean, it is a  _fungus_  we're talking about. I mean, sure, it's a mutant irradiated fungus. And even so, it's not the fungus that's the problem, it's what's probably  _underneath_ the fungus. 

However, what's underneath it is likely a pretty big problem. 

I take a deep breath and raise my hand to knock on the door of his pod. 

"He's not in there."

Startled, I whip around to find Skye, leaning against the door of her own pod. She's changed, now wearing a pair of small cotton sleep shorts and a too-large T-shirt with a pig on it. I realize I've been taking in her outfit for a few moments too long and redirect my gaze back to her face. There, I find her smirking with a glint of amusement in her eyes, behind a pair of large, black, plastic-framed glasses that I didn't know she wore. I notice the dark circles under her eyes, but I'm relatively certain that this is the first time I've seen her crack a smile in over a week. All at once, I realize how pleasant it is, seeing her smile. 

I shake my head and clear my throat, cursing the fact that being discreet has never been my strong suit. Skye lets a few moments pass before she decides to speak again, saving me from my embarrassment, which I'm sure is displayed plainly on my cheeks.

"He's in the cockpit. With May."

I nod, "Oh, I just needed to..." I wince as I realize how this is going to sound, "warn him about the fungus."

Skye's eyes widen comically as she let's out a small laugh. "Seriously? Gross. Don't tell me he--"

"No, not at all. Forest fungus. From Manitoba."

Skye nods, but a hint of a smile remains on her face. "So you've got to warn him? What's the deal?"

Considering I'm not entirely sure what it is myself, I stumble a bit on a make-shift explanation. "It's, erm--well, I  _think_ it's some kind of radiotrophic fungus. I mean, at first I thought it was just cramp balls, but then--"

"Cramp balls?"

"Er, it's a type of fungus. Offensively ugly, mostly harmless, and completely devoid of any of the cramp-preventing abilities that gave it its name."

"I see. So it's not cramp balls, then?"

I shake my head, "No. I mean, I don't think so. I  _think_ this fungus started  growing on dead organic material, but the samples I have show some kind of chemosynthetic abilities."

Skye narrows her eyes, clearly not understanding. "Riiight. And this is a bad thing, I'm guessing?"

"Possibly. Probably. The fungus appears to have taken in a bit of gamma radiation."

"Ah-ha. No idea what it means, but it sounds bad. You're right, definitely a Coulson problem." She takes a few steps toward me before moving past me in the narrow hallway. It's almost imperceptible, barely there, and I very nearly don't even feel it when she puts one of her hands just above my hip as she slides past me in the hallway. I might not have felt it at all if her fingers hadn't lingered for just a second too long, and if the plane hadn't hit a low-pressure point just then, causing Skye to adjust her footing and take a small step towards me as her fingertips grazed my abdomen when she brought her hands back to her sides.

In the next moment, she's walking away from me, headed towards the set of hallways that lead to the cockpit. It's then that I realise that her shorts are really quite short and that even in a ratty t-shirt she--

"Coming?"

She's smirking again as she turns around to make sure I'm following her.

I clear my throat again, "Oh, yeah." I keep my head down, trying (and failing) to hide the blush on my cheeks as I catch up to her. Preoccupied, I miss the turnoff for the passage that leads through the lounge and into the cockpit. Before I can get too far, she's grabbing my wrist and gently pulling me to the right.

"This way, Simmons."


	2. "No Comment"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson, we've got a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two! It's not long, but it's longer than the first. 
> 
> Thanks so much to everybody who stopped by to read/leave kudos/leave comments/bookmark/etc. You guys give me life and you've all been so nice. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Two: "No Comment"**

 

I'm beginning to reconsider the importance of this fungus all over again when we're standing outside the door to the cockpit.

"Go on, then. Knock," Skye motions towards the door with her hand.

"I'm not knocking. May hates people coming to the cockpit. You knock." I bite my lip, feeling a little ridiculous. 

"Are you kidding me?" Skye hisses, "I'm not knocking. She already hates me."

"Exactly!" I say without thinking. A real ball of tenderness and consideration for others feelings, me. 

Skye crosses her arms and glares at me over the top rim of her glasses. I open my mouth to apologize, but still firmly insist that  _she_ be the one who knocks when the door opens from the inside. 

Coulson's standing on the other side of it, wearing a red bathrobe with a Starfleet insignia embroidered on the left-hand side. 

"Yes?" He asks, the hint of mirth in his eyes making it obvious that he'd overheard us.

"Oh, hi, Agent Coulson. I just--"

"A.C., uh, why are you wearing a Star Trek bathrobe?" Skye cuts in, getting to the more pressing issue immediately.

Coulson turns his attention to Skye, "It's one thirty in the morning. Why are you wearing an old rag with a pig on it?"

"Hey!" She defends, "I found this in the dumpster behind the secondhand store while I had my van parked in its alley. Can you believe someone was going to throw it away?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "Good thing I saved it, right?"

Coulson blinks at her for a moment, not saying anything, before he turns his attention to me.

"What did you find, Simmons?" 

I glance sideways at Skye, who's rolling her eyes. "Well, I, uh, I found some evidence of gamma radiation in the fungus. It's like nothing I've seen before. Clearly mutated. I think it began growing on some kind of decaying organic mat--"

"Gamma radiation? How much?"

I do my best to come up with an accurate estimate, "Enough. Too much for fungi samples"

"Do you feel sick?" Coulson's expression betrays a hint of concern.

I shake my head, "No, I'm fine. The samples were small and the levels were low. Barely there, really. Someone may want to check up on those hikers, though."

Coulson nods, "I'll get someone on it."

He turns to Skye, whose arms are folded over her chest in a statement that clearly says, 'I'm still mad that you made fun of my pig shirt.'

Smirking, he says, "Skye, keep an eye on Simmons. The last thing we need is our expert down for the count with radiation sickness."

I cut in to protest as Skye nods, "Really, I'm fine. And I told you, mycology  _isn't_ my field. I'm not the expert here, we should really get someone who--"

Coulson doesn't appear to be listening as he leans back into the cockpit to tell May that we're going to Manitoba. He turns back to us, clearly not interested in my protests "Good work, Simmons." 

"Thanks. But, I'm not sure what, exactly, we're dealing with. I mean, it could be nothing but--"

"But you made the right call. We'll know more when we land in a few hours. Go get some sleep." He gives me one of his signature Coulson tight-lipped smiles and goes to shut the door to the cockpit when he turns back for a moment. 

"I mean it, Skye. Keep an eye on her."

Skye salutes, "You got it, A.C." 

She turns to me after Coulson's closed the cockpit door. "Well done, Simmons. You're a regular fungal superhero."

She pats me on the back, as we walk back through the lounge towards our pods. 

When we arrive, I stop at my door, which is two doors down from Skye's, with May's pod in between ours. 

"Well, this is me," I say lamely. Skye stops a few paces in front me at the door to her own pod before turning around.

"You sure you're alright? I mean, what about the radiation sickness?"

I almost laugh, but manage a smirk instead. "There wasn't enough radiation in the samples to make a fruit fly sick. I suspect Agent Coulson understood that and was trying to--"

"Mess with me. Got it." Skye shakes her head and laughs lightly. "So, you'll be alright."

I nod resolutely, "Just fine. Apart from my skin turning green, probably."

Her eyes widen comically. 

"Kidding," I add quickly. "Really, it's not a big deal."

Skye still looks skeptical, but she lets it go. "Alright, if you say so. But if you start feeling a little green around the gills, come find me?"

The urge to fake a cough is fleeting, but present nonetheless. Instead I nod, covering my mouth with the back of hand, as a yawn escapes of its own volition. All at once my body seems to become hyper-aware of the fact that it's been a very long time since I've slept.

"You must exhausted. I'll let you get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

I take my hand away from my mouth and go to open the door to my pod. "Seems that way," I respond, keying in the code to open the door. "Hope you're ready for the cold. Manitoba is pretty frigid this time of year. Or any time of the year, really. It's--"

Skye cuts in, "Simmons, you're bleeding." 

Before I can respond, she's in front of me, her face a map of lines that spell out her concern. 

"Simmons?" 

She takes one more step closer and I think about taking a step back. I could honestly count the number of times she's been this close to me on one hand, I think. I can almost feel my brain buzzing and whirring as it misfires, the urge to step away fiercely battling the one that refuses. By some miracle, my fingers manage to find their way to my face, feeling around for a moment before my index finger happens upon something slick near my left nostril.

I pull my hand away to inspect the damage and, sure enough, I have a nosebleed. 

This is not an especially disconcerting development. Nosebleeds are frequent. Not to me, particularly, but seeing as it's hardly gushing like Ol' Faithful, I'm not overly concerned. 

I key in the code to my pod quickly, then lean in to grab a tissue from the nook beside my bed and dab away the blood. 

"There," I say, standing in front of Skye once again. "See? Nothing to worry about." I attempt to smile, but even as I do so, I can feel more blood beginning to trickle from my nose. Catching it before it can get far, I go over a mental checklist of possible ailments that might lead to symptoms like nosebleeds given my activity for the past few days.

The obvious answers are a) radiation sickness (not likely, considering I'm absolutely positive that the amount of radiation in the samples was well below the 'dangerous' threshold) or b) fungal infection. The latter is plausible, I suppose, but I don't share this with Skye. 

Instead, I say, "Really, Skye, I'm fine. It's nothing." As soon as the words leave my lips, I want to take them back. Immediately, as if egged on by my misplaced confidence, my vision darkens around the edges and my lungs feel like the air is being forced from them. 

"Simmons, I'm not--"

She stops short when I throw a hand out to steady myself on the threshold of my pod. Before I can say 'What's that bright light?', her hands on my arms, steadying me.

"Jesus Christ, Simmons. Clearly not nothing."

In the next moment, she's steering me into my pod and forcing me to sit on the bed. 

Her voice is uneven when she says, "Do you want me to get Fitz?"

I'm shocked at the suggestion. I hadn't even considered getting Fitz, really. 

"Fitz? Why would we get Fitz?"

Skye shrugs, "I don't know, because he's--"

"Completely useless in situations involving blood?" 

She nods slowly, "I see your point."

A beat passes before Skye crouches down in front of me so she's on eye level. She presses a hand to my cheek, checking my temperature. Her expression darkens when I shiver. 

I can tell from her reaction that I must feel a bit warm, which would explain the chills to some degree. Whether or not this is the result of a  _fever_ may be up for debate.

"Jemma, there is no way I'm leaving you alone all night." 

It doesn't escape my notice that this is the first time she's ever used my first name. "Skye, really, I'm fine. It's just--"

"Listen, it's either me or Coulson. You choose."

I can feel a grimace settle on my face.

"Yeah," Skye smirks, "that's what I thought."

\-----

After a bit more useless protesting, I'm crawling into bed as Skye opens her laptop in the corner. 

Our pods are just big enough to fit a small bed with about two feet of space at the foot of them. This, I think, is considered our 'living room'. In the living room, there's exactly one plastic chair, lauded for neither its comfort nor its aesthetic appeal. Still, Skye insisted upon staying with me tonight. 

" _I'm not tired,"_ she'd said, " _And I haven't been able to sleep anyway. I'll just hang out on reddit. Besides, my pod's a black hole for wifi and I can't get to sleep without my computer. So you'll be doing me a favor, really."_

Clearly, I conceded. 

"Are you sure you'll be comfortable there?" I hesitate for a moment, "I mean, if you wanted to take half the bed, it's plenty big enough. That's chair's horribly--"

"Jem, I'll be fine here. Seriously."

If she noticed my relatively sharp intake of breath when she used my nickname, she doesn't let on. 

"Besides," she continues, "I'm here to keep watch and make sure you don't die, remember? I mean, do you actually  _know_ what's wrong with you?"

"No comment."

I pause a moment before continuing, "Skye, honestly, it's not a big deal. We'll be on the ground tomorrow and I'll make a few calls and figure out what's going on. It's probably just an allergy." 

Skye remains unconvinced, but doesn't say as much. Instead, she goes back to typing, probably googling radiation allergies. With any luck I'll be asleep before she finds her way to WebMD. 

Giving up, I turn out the lights next to my bed. "Really, Skye, if you get cold or tired, I promise you that I'll be fine. You can--"

"Right. Go back to my pod. I heard you the first four times."

Nodding, I settle into my bed. "Alright. So long as you know."

I can almost hear her eyes roll from across the 'room'.

"I know."

I'm almost asleep when something occurs to me. 

"Skye?"

"Hmm?"

"Is your pod really a dead zone? For wifi, I mean?"

She doesn't answer immediately, but I can hear the smirk in her voice when she throws my own words back at me.

"No comment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is coming your way early next week, maybe this weekend. Either way, thanks again for stopping by and reading. You've all been very kind! 
> 
> Peace, Love & S.H.I.E.L.D.


	3. Centimeters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff is happening! Simmons is riding the struggle bus, Skye's driving it, and Coulson's filling the tank. Cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm a jerk. I promised this and didn't deliver, which is a thing we all hate. I'm sorry and I hope you all had a very happy holiday. And did I mention that you look, like, REALLY great today? Looking good, my friend. Keep it up.
> 
> This is, as promised, Chapter 3. Things are happening. Plots are developing. It's getting fun. Also, it seems like Coulson may or may not be a big-time Skimmons shipper. Who knew?
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks so much for reading and commenting/leaving kudos/asks/feedback/reviews/favorites/bookmarks/subscriptions/following etc. You've all been very kind and I really appreciate it!

Chapter 3: Centimeters

 

I wake with a start a little more than an hour later, feeling quite a bit worse than when I fell asleep. The room is quiet now and completely dark, save for the soft glow coming from Skye's laptop in the corner. 

 

Noticing she's not in the chair or by her computer, I scramble to pull myself up and scan the room. I immediately regret moving so quickly, though, as I feel almost unbearably lightheaded as a result. I wince, touching my temples gingerly with my fingertips. 

 

"Skye?" I whisper into the dark. My words give way to a few short, violent coughs, but I recover quickly as panic takes over. I scan the room, willing my eyes to adjust, but only manage to see a whole lot of darkness.

 

"Hey," she says softly. I hear her before I see her. Blindly, I reach for the panel next to my bed to turn on the small blue light near the foot of my bed. It's dim, but it bathes the room in enough light for me to find Skye half-sitting, half-lying on the floor next to my bed, propped up on her elbows.

"Sorry," she says, "I hope I didn't wake you. I got cold and it was in your closet…"

 

Looking down, I see that she's wearing the massive jumper I got from the Academy after we had that scare in plagues and endemics training in our first year and had to burn all of our clothes. It has a "S.H.I.E.L.D." emblazoned on it it large, block letters with the screaming chicken logo underneath it. 

 

"I, er, hope you don't mind?" Skye bites the corner of her bottom lip nervously.

 

"No, no, of course not. It looks good on you, actually." Hadn't necessarily meant to say that. 

 

"Thanks." The amused grin on her face impossible to miss even in the low light.  

 

It dawns on me that she looks like she was settling in to sleep on the floor. The spare blanket from under the bed is draped over her legs and she was definitely lying down before I turned on the light.

 

"Were you going to sleep on the floor?"

 

Skye nods, "Yeah, I--"

 

I sit up a little straighter, incredulous. "Absolutely not. You're not sleeping on the floor, Skye. Get up here. The bed's plenty big."

 

Clearly caught off guard, Skye doesn't respond immediately. "Jem, really, it's fine. I'll be--"

 

"Skye, honestly, if you're going to stay in here, you aren't sleeping on the floor. I promise you that whatever I have isn't contagious. Probably. And if it is, you've likely already caught it due to the confined space. So the damage is done, really. You don't have to worry about catching it at this point."

 

Skye looks surprised, "Catching it? I'm not worried about catching it," she looks thoughtful, "well, actually, I am a little bit now that you've mentioned it. But if you say--"

 

"What are you worried about then?"

 

She fumbles with her words. "Um, well, I mean--"

 

"Skye, just get in the bed."

 

This time, she doesn't try to protest. Looking as nervous as she did when we pulled her out of her van and brought her onto the bus, Skye climbs up from the foot of the bed and slides in under the covers that I've thrown aside for her. After a few moments, she settles in, her back facing me.

 

"See? Much better than the floor isn't it?"

 

I can practically hear her eyes roll in their sockets as she says, "When you're right, you're right. Biochemist _and_  certified Serta mattress expert to boot. How did S.H.I.E.L.D. get so lucky?"

 

Chuckling, I turn off the light and settle back into the bed on my own side. "It wasn't so much luck as it was doughnuts."

 

"Doughnuts?" Skye shifts a little bit.

 

I nod, "MI6 only had terrible, stale finger sandwiches at their open day. S.H.I.E.L.D. had doughnuts and I'm a sucker for doughnuts."

 

The bed rumbles slightly as Skye laughs, "I'll have to remember that."

 

I shift slightly, trying to get comfortable again. Inadvertently, my knee grazes Skye's thigh. Hoping she didn't hear my sharp intake of breath, I fidget for another moment or two before settling, glad that it's too dark for her to see the blush creeping onto my cheeks. The bed is _technically_ plenty big for the both of us, but not by much. S.H.I.E.L.D. was nothing if not efficient when it came to saving space on the bus. All told, there's room for us with about twenty centimeters of space between us. 

 

I try not to focus on that number and how very, very small it is.

 

Over the hum of the plane's engines, I can just barely hearSkye's breath begin to even out, but I can tell she's not quite asleep yet.

 

"Skye?"

 

"Forget it, Simmons. I'm staying."

 

I smile a little at that. "That's not what I was…Well, I just wanted to say thanks. For staying." I feel the need to add, "Even if it was completely unnecessary because I'm sure it's just a--"

 

"You're welcome, Jem." She turns over to face me, even though I can't see her face in the dark. "Just don't die on me or anything, alright? I'm not super into being emotionally scarred for the rest of my life because I woke up next to your corpse. I have to a S.H.I.E.L.D. psych eval to pass."

 

"Charming pillow talk," I smirk. "I promise not to die. But take solace in the fact that if I did, I'd do my best to give you the answers from the grave."

 

"Gee, thanks. Because talking to a ghost during a _psych_ eval should definitely help." 

 

"I see your point. Well, good job I don't plan on dying, then." 

 

"Yeah," I can hear the smile in her voice, "I guess it is."

 

I go to close my eyes when, without warning, a sharp, searing pain radiates through my body, like my bones are being crushed and inflated all it once. My whole body goes rigid and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Despite the excruciating pain, an icy grip in my chest like a massive, frozen hand squeezes the air from my lungs, leaving me still and silent. 

 

Unable to scream or move, I can feel every nerve in my body stand at attention, buzzing and humming with panic that I can't release. 

 

Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the pain seeps from my body, leaving my muscles relaxed and my bones feeling light in its wake. I can finally suck in a deep breath, which alerts Skye's suspicion. 

 

"Jemma?" In a flash she's sitting up, squinting through the darkness and searching my face. "What's wrong?"

 

"N-nothing," I manage to stammer, "I'm fine. Just caught a chill."

 

She's silent for a moment, probably working out whether or not I'm lying. 

 

In the end, she lets it go, laying back down. She's still facing me, clearly still wrestling with her options: leave and go get Coulson or stay here and take my word for it. I suspect it was the unappealing prospect of having to interact with May to talk to Coulson that keeps her with me.

 

\--

 

The next time I open my eyes, the sun is creeping in through the portal near the foot of the bed. It's still early, but at least I've managed to get in a couple of hours of sleep. 

 

She's still asleep and I can't help thinking that the sight of her in that stupid S.H.I.E.L.D Academy jumper is way up there on a list of Most Pleasant Things I've Ever Woken Up To. 

 

All at once, I notice how close she is. The twenty centimeters that existed between us when I closed my eyes has diminished considerably, leaving no more than ten centimeters between her and I. It's when her index finger twitches in her sleep that I realise that her hand is covering mine where it lays between us, her fingertips tucked under my palm and her little finger laced with mine.

 

I do my level-best to keep from moving as I trace every visible part of her with my eyes. 

 

I don't know that I've ever looked at Skye like this. I mean, really looked at her. With her hair partially covering her face and her big, intense brown eyes closed, hidden under her eyelids; with her hands wrapped up in the too-long sleeves of my jumper and her nose buried in the fabric at the crook of her elbow; with her mouth hanging open and a little bit of drool escaping the corner of her lips.

 

I could say that this is the first moment that I've realised how catastrophically, soul-crushingly beautiful she is, but that would be a lie. It's been this a hundred other moments, all colliding and destroying every feeble attempt I've made to carry on as though she was simply another addition to our team. Our very _professional_ team.

 

So, this isn't the first time I've realised that she's breathtaking. But this is the first time it's hit me with the force of a low-pressure system-turned-superstorm. 

 

She's asleep in my bed, in my jumper, and there's no taking shelter from a storm this big in a bed this small. I'm hopeless in the face of it and there's nowhere else I'd prefer to be.

 

Sure, when she wakes up, things will be very much the same. Skye still won't have any idea how much of my mind she occupies. She won't have a clue that I've ever looked at her this way. 

 

Furthermore, I will not have changed either. I'm certainly not about to up-end twenty-six years of carefully perfected introversion to pluck up the courage to talk to her. You know, I mean _actually_ talk to her. Besides which, we work together. There's probably something against even _thinking_ about another agent in the S.H.I.E.L.D. handbook. 

 

It's settled, then. Mentioning any of this to Skye would be the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. She can't know. It's as simple as that.

 

"Observing me for science?"

 

A smirk spreads across Skye's face. Her eyes are just barely open, clouded with grogginess and amusement. 

 

"Find anything interesting?"

 

If there's a correct response to a question like this, I'd love to know what it is. 

 

After opening and closing my mouth a few times in an attempt to say something, I settle on, "You have a freckle. Left temple. It looks fine for now, but you may want to keep an eye on it. You know, make sure it doesn't change shape or colour."

 

Skye barely hides her smirk as she nods. "Nothing like waking up to a skin cancer scare in the morning," she winks, "you sure know how to treat a girl, Simmons."

 

I can feel my cheeks burning up, but fail to come up with anything to say in response. 

 

I'm saved from having to, however, when we hear voices in the small corridor outside my door. Faster than you can say "Cramp Balls", Skye is up, out of the bed, and crouched near the door, listening. Quite a bit more slowly and much less noiselessly, I follow, crouching next to her.

 

"It sounds like Coulson and May," she whispers.

 

I hear a faint rumble of voices and nod in agreement. Following the sounds of a few footsteps, their voices become clearer.

 

"I just don't think we should take any chances. Being discreet is important, but not at the risk of putting our team in danger," Coulson says, "Besides, the S.H.I.E.L.D. PR team could use a little action. Everything that's happened in the wake of the Battle of New York has been positively dull by comparison."

 

Predictably, May says nothing in response. I think it's safe to assume that she's said all she needs to with a withering stare. 

 

Skye turns to me. "What do you think they're talking about?"

 

I shrug, but before I can answer, the door of my pod opens to reveal Coulson and May. Upon seeing us both crouched on the floor in pyjamas with bed-head, Coulson chuckles.

 

"Sleepover? How cozy."

 

Even May looks amused, with the corners of her lips turned upward in a smirk. 

 

"Agent Coulson, sir, we were just--" I begin, standing.

 

"Looking for my contact," Skye cuts in, standing up next to me. "I was putting it in and dropped it. Clumsy, right?"

 

Coulson turns his attention to Skye, but looks decidedly unconvinced. Still, he plays along. 

 

"Right," he nods. "Wouldn't want to stumble around blind. You know, not being able to see what's right in front of you." He tacks his signature 'Coulson smile' onto the end.

 

I may be imagining it, but I could've sworn that when Coulson said "blind", he directed a rather pointed glance in my direction.

 

"Exactly," Skye nods. Her tone is unreadable and by the time I turn to look at her, her expression is just as indecipherable.

 

Coulson turns his attention back to me before he speaks again. "Simmons, can you be ready for briefing in the conference room in twenty?"

 

I nod emphatically, wanting desperately to shift the focus back to work-related problems. I may not be an expert in mycology, but at least with fungi, I'm not _completely_  out of my depth.

 

Coulson nods, "Good. I'll meet you there. Both of you." He seems to notice Skye's attire for the first time. "Oh, and nice sweatshirt, Skye." With that, he and May turn and continue down the corridor.

 

Once I'm sure they're out of earshot, I groan and sit back down on the edge of my bed, covering my face with my hands.

 

"How incredibly embarrassing," I moan, expecting an agreement from Skye. When it doesn't come, I lift my head to look at her. I catch her eyes for only a split second before she turns away, gathering up her laptop. While reading emotion has never been a particular strength of mine, there's no mistaking the flash of hurt that darkens Skye's expression for the briefest of moments.

 

She's facing the wall, collecting her things when she forces a chuckle and says, "Totally. Super embarrassing."

 

Before I can backtrack and think of something to say, she's at my door, preparing to open it and head back to her own pod. Without thinking, I stand, putting one hand lightly on her forearm to keep her from walking away from me.

 

"Skye, that's not what I--"

 

She's looking past me, at the doorframe as she says, "Right. I kn--Well, don't worry about it." Gently, she slides past me, her shoulder brushing mine softly as she passes. Not knowing what to say, I let her go.

 

\--

 

Seventeen minutes later, I'm at standing in front of the large computer panel, waiting for the others to join. Coulson is standing a few feet away from the doors of the conference room, speaking in hushed tones on his cell phone. 

 

Fitz and Skye round the corner, walking towards the conference room. Skye is speaking emphatically, using her hands to illustrate her point. I can't tell what she's saying, but Fitz's expression is a totally confounding mixture of confusion, amusement, and disappointment. Quite abruptly they stop, and Skye puts both of her hands on Fitz's shoulders. 

 

I attempt to put a lid on the surge of envy that courses through me, but fail miserably. In the next moment, Skye's hands are back at her side. She says something else and Fitz looks through the glass walls of the conference room at me. She grabs his chin roughly and turns his face back to her, hissing something at him through her teeth. 

 

"Sorry," I see him mouth, rubbing his chin. He then tries to sneak a more discreet glance at me. I keep telling him that being discreet is not among his many talents, but he fails to understand. It's his turn to speak emphatically, gesturing wildly for a few moments before ending whatever it is he's saying with a shrug. 

 

Skye nods by way of response, 

 

I can hear my pulse in my ears and, with the force of a steam engine with no brakes, the debilitating pain I felt last night comes rushing back through my bones. I stumble backwards until my the backs of my knees hit the seat of a chair, forcing me into it roughly. My muscles burn like they're being shred with a pick axe. I gasp for breath but manage nothing. 

 

I vaguely register the sound of the door of the conference room opening before Coulson is standing over me.

 

"Jemma?" His voice is muffled. 

 

I attempt to respond, but nothing comes out. My head is buzzing with panic by the time Fitz appears behind Coulson just a few seconds later. 

 

Then, Skye's in front of me, crouched down with both of her hands on my knees. My eyes flick to hers and I can feel the fear radiating off of me. I can see my own panic reflected two-fold in her eyes. I want to scream because the skin under her hands feels like it's on fire, but no breathing means no screaming. Her lips are moving, saying something, but I can't hear her or Coulson or Fitz anymore. All I can hear is the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins, accompanied by a disturbing snapping sound. 

 

The sound fades, giving way to an unbearable low-frequency humming as my vision dims around the edges before I completely lose consciousness.

 

\--

 

What feels like hours--but must've only been a matter of minutes--I come to, finding myself on the floor. Blinking against the sudden assault of the bright lights in the conference room, I open my eyes slowly to find Skye and Fitz next to me. Fitz is kneeling to my right while Skye is behind me, her hands supporting the back of my head. Their attention is focused on Coulson and, fortunately, stays there, even as I shudder at the feeling of Skye's hands in my hair and her fingers on the back of my neck.

 

"Fitz, get Dr. Banner on the phone," Coulson says in his 'down-to-business' voice. I take it as a good sign that I can hear him clearly in the absence of the sound of blood rushing through my veins.

 

Fitz is taken aback. "What's the Hul--" Coulson shoots him a truly withering glance, stopping him in his tracks. 

 

"Er, I mean, what's _Doctor Banner_ going to do?"

 

"No idea. But there's no one than Banner when it comes to gamma radiation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for stopping by to read this little piece. I hope you're enjoying it thus far! 
> 
> And hey, Happy New Year!


	4. If It Makes You Feel Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things! Stuff! No words here. The words are in the chapter, obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! I wrote a thing. My apologies for not getting it done sooner. BUT, I didn't know where to stop. I'm still not convinced this is a great stopping point for this chapter, but I split the update into two chapters (because it was so long that you all would've grown beards reading it) and the second half will be up within the next few days. It's like a double chapter bonus. Cool!
> 
> Unfortunately, Dr. Banner hasn't quite made this chapter. He'll be in the next one, but he's a bit of a catalyst, so I couldn't very well throw him into the action and end it abruptly. I also solemnly swear to be up to no good re: bad girl shenanigans more and more in coming chapters.
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading. You've all been very kind. Thank you for subscribing/commenting/following/bookmarking/kudos-ing(?)/favorite-ing/liking/reviewing, etc. 
> 
> You are true gems. Don't you ever forget it. <3
> 
> Oh! And as always, if you're interested in my playlist for this little project, message me in some form or another and I will send you the spotify link. It'll be fun.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 4: If It Makes You Feel Better

"Gamma radiation?!" Fitz exclaims, "Are you saying the Jemma's had some kind of radiation poisoning!?"

I take this opportunity to sit up slowly, stifling a groan. My muscles feel like they've been thoroughly worked-over with a rusty rake.

"Not likely," I chime in, "there wasn't enough radiation in those samples to be of any real danger."

"You keep saying that, but the evidence would suggest that something's rotten in the state of Denmark," Skye says, a hint of irritation in her voice.

"We'll know more once we touch base with Banner," Coulson interjects. "Simmons, you feel alright?"

I vaguely register a scoff issuing from Skye, but ignore it and respond, "Yessir," dutifully.

Coulson nods, but appears unconvinced. It's clear that he wasn't asking because he expected an honest answer, but because both S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol and his conscience insisted upon it.

"Skye, take Simmons into the lounge and wait there," he says before turning to May and muttering something I can't her. She nods stiffly and slips out of the conference room's side door.

Skye pulls me up swiftly--with more strength than I'd have expected--and guides me to my feet. Her hand settles just below my shoulder blade for a moment before she urges me forward, ushering me through the doors of the conference room and into the lounge.

"Sit," she instructs, gesturing toward the couch.

I do as I'm told, watching as she busies herself with a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. Allowing myself to become distracted momentarily, I look down and pick at a loose bit of stitching on one of the cushions. I've always thought this couch was a little bit luxe and out-of-place in the largely utilitarian decor of the Bus. But apparently it is not as high-class as I'd previously assumed, as evidenced by the loose stitching.

Just when I'm beginning to ponder who, exactly, chooses the furniture for S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities, a pair of well-worn sneakers appear in front of me. I look up to find a mug with Skye's fingers wrapped around it in front of my face.

"Oh, er, thanks," I stammer, "but I don't really drink coff--"

"It's tea."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, but take the mug. "Thanks," I mutter, a little touched that she remembered that a) I prefer Earl Grey to coffee and b) that my favorite mug is the one with the the cartoon coyotes on it that we got from a gas station in Montana.

Skye sits down next to me, folding one leg underneath her and reclining casually against the opposite armrest of the sofa. I remain where I am, but turn slightly to face her. Once I am facing her, however, I find that I'm drawing a blank on what, exactly, to say.

I'm saved the trouble of coming up with a topic of conversation when she says, "How's your head?" in a small voice whilst she feigns extreme interest in her coffee.

Unsure of how to respond, I take a sip of tea. Unfortunately, it's still quite hot and burns the inside of my mouth. I play it off clumsily, though, not wanting to draw attention to my carelessness.

"It's fine," I say after I've recovered. I open my mouth to tell her that this is no big deal and that she shouldn't be concerned. But, at the last possible moment before the words leave my lips, I consider her reaction to the other half-dozen times that I've insisted that I'm 'fine'. Not exactly ideal, to say the least. So, instead, I decide to leave it at 'It's fine.'

I venture a glance at Skye, who's observing me with equal parts concern, skepticism and thinly-veiled irritation.

Apparently having run out of topics of conversation, she remains quiet, still taking an interest in the coffee she hasn't touched. We settle into an uncomfortable silence. Despite the close quarters of the bus, we've spent remarkably little time alone together. There always seems to be someone around. She's different now--withdrawn and silent in a way that I didn't even know Skye was capable of being.

My brain kicks into overdrive, wondering if it's me that's responsible for the change in her demeanor.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing my tea to cool down just a little bit faster. When the silence becomes unbearably oppressive, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Have you ever been to Canada?" Stupid, boring small talk, but it's better than silence.

Skye shakes her head, finally taking a sip of her coffee. With her head ducked, I take the opportunity to observe her for a moment. I see her tension begin to ebb visibly after I've broken the silence. She closes her eyes, seemingly savoring the coffee for a moment. Her grip on the mug loosens and her features soften. From the way she exhales, I can see her chest and her shoulders relax considerably.

"It's excellent," I assure her, "lots of trees and lakes and fresh air. In fact, did you know that Manitoba is home to world's tenth-largest freshwater lake? And obviously there are moose and deer and a whole host of other fascinating cold-weather mammals. There are even polar bears! "

Upon seeing the smirk on her face, I reign in my excitement. I'd be embarrassed, but the majority of my energy is dedicated to my relief at the sight of seeing her thaw slightly.

"Well, it's beautiful," I finish. "You'll love it, I'm sure."

After taking another sip, she looks me in the eyes for the first time since we sat down. Her eyes aren't icy like I'd expected them to be. In fact, there's a distinct glint in them as her lips curl into a smile that reaches her eyes and makes them dance brilliantly. She tucks a lock of unruly hair behind her ear and she doesn't even seem to mind when it stubbornly falls back into it's previous position.

"I'm looking forward to it," she says.

Of course, Fitz chooses this exact moment to burst forth from the conference room, spitting out sentence fragments in rapid-fire.

"Best in our class--"

"--Gamma radiation, not enough to--"

"--mycology isn't even her field!"

I watch as he runs his hands through his curly hair, clearly exasperated.

I'm about to say something when he gets his "What If" idea look on his face and rushes to the spiral staircase. He thunders down it with a speed I didn't know he possessed and is out of sight in seconds, apparently not having realised that Skye and were in the same room.

Skye looks at me, puzzled.

"Is he...?"

"Yeah," I fill in, "he's fine. He's just had an idea, that's all."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After another ten minutes or so of halting and uncomfortable 'banter', May calls Skye back into the conference room and points at the large screen, looking frustrated. Skye goes to work fixing it, which I take as my cue to go see what Fitz is up to in the lab.

When I arrive, I find him in a hazmat suit, with the samples shoved under a microscope. He's alternating between peering into the eyepiece and scribbling furiously in his ratty notebook.

I don't know what he thinks he's going to find. When it comes to anything remotely biological, he knows more than your average bear, but not much more.

"Fitz, what're you doing?"

Fitz jumps, startled by my voice. He frequently gets very jumpy when he's focused.

"Jesus, Jemma!" He shouts, then rushes over to me and pushes back out the doors of the lab by my shoulders. Once we're 'safely' outside and the doors have closed, he removes the suit's hood.

"What do you think you're doing?! That stuff's dangerous!" he scolds.

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Fitz, it's not dangerous. I tested the samples twice. There's hardly enough radiation to turn a leech green."

He guffaws. "Radiation's not all that's in there, Jemma. I can't believe you missed it. You of all people." He shakes his head, "There's something else in there."

I raise an eyebrow at him, confused and disbelieving. "Something else?" I move past him to head back into the lab when he catches my arm.

"Jemma. Suit."

I breathe in deeply in an attempt to keep my patience. I'm 85% sure that he's just forgotten to clean the microscope and whatever he thinks he found is, in fact, a smudge of pesto aioli. However, I decide to indulge him and grab my own hazmat suit from the locker next to the lab doors.

After I've begrudgingly put it on, I turn and face him through the plastic of the sealed hood.

"Happy?" I grumble.

"Not as happy as I'll be when you admit that I'm king of the lab."

"Keep dreaming," I shake my head as we re-enter the lab. "Show me what you think you've uncovered, boy wonder."  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I pull back from the microscope, stunned. "No way," I shake my head. "That's impossible. There's no way that--"

"That you were wrong?" Fitz crosses his arms, looking smug. "It's possible." He grins, "Tough break, losing the King of the lab title."

"Queen of the lab. And you can't know what this is for sure. Maybe it's a fluke."

"I checked the other samples as well."

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.

"On both microscopes, before you go blaming the pesto aioli that I have been very careful to keep away from the equipment since the particle accelerator incident."

I frown, "But then…what is this?"

He shrugs, "No idea. You're the biologist."

"It's like nothing I've ever seen before," I look through the eyepiece again, to see the same thing: crazy strong and crazy fast cellular breakdown and regeneration. I shake my head, "It doesn't make any sense. Their physical structure shouldn't even be able to support something like this. It's like super fungus."

Fitz nods, "I thought you'd say that," he points at the other microscope, with another sample. "Take a look at that one."

I do as he says and am suitably shocked by what I find. I look at him, disbelieving. "They've got…"

He nods again.

"But, they don't look any different. Or feel any different. And yet, they're--"

"Super," he fills in. "Stronger, faster, healthier. They'd probably be smarter, too, if they had brains. It's lucky they're fungus, really."

Still a little shocked, I take a seat on the stool next to our large metal table. "How could I have missed this?"

Fitz takes a seat on the stool across from me and shrugs, "You were probably a bit distracted." He puts a suspicious about of emphasis on the last word.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Spit it out. What do you know?"

He grins smugly. "Skye told me you slept together."

I nearly fall off my stool. "She what?!"

"You know, I'm a little salty that you didn't tell me first, Jemma. We're best friends. I always have your back and you've got mine. Usually. You ought to at least be able to tell me when you lure a girl into your bed by fainting." He shakes his head, "Honestly, I knew your moves were terrible, but I thought you might've learned your lesson with the fainting bit when we were at the Academy." He ponders for a moment, "Though, it did work, so maybe you're Queen of the lab after all."

"Fitz!" I shriek, "She did tell you that we just slept in the same bed, didn't she?! Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing happened."

Fitz strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, I think maybe she did say something about that." He shrugs, grinning. "My mistake."

If looks could kill, there would be a Fitz-shaped hole in the bottom of this plane and they'd be hearing his girly scream from a hundred miles in every direction.

Too irritated to remain in the room with him, I get up and storm out of the lab before furiously un-doing the four hundred clasps, zippers and seals on my stupid hazmat suit.

He follows me, much to my chagrin.

"I kid," He begins taking off his own massive suit. "But, if it makes you feel better, she seemed genuinely upset this morning."

I balk at him. "And why, exactly, would that make me feel better?" You know, I'd like to assume that Fitz understands why it is generally not considered a victory when a woman leaves your bedroom upset, but his ignorance constantly surprises me.

He removes his hood, "Well, she was worried. And her face was screaming 'I'm over-analyzing' when she intercepted me after I got my scone. She was full of questions: 'Have you talked to Simmons?' 'Has Simmons said anything about me?' 'Do you know what kind of shampoo Simmons uses?'"

I roll my eyes, trying not to laugh at the high-pitched voice he uses to imitate Skye. "Oh please. She did not ask you about my shampoo."

He chuckles, "Well, no. But she did ask if you ever talk about her."

I look up from unstrapping the massive boots to inspect his expression. I'd know if he was messing with me, and when I see his face, I know he isn't. My mouth goes dry.

"And you said?" I manage to choke out.

"No, of course. I told her you never even mention her."

I stand up, my eyes wide with shock. "You what?!"

"Well, I couldn't very well tell her the truth. She's all you talk about!" He looks thoughtful for a moment, "In fact, I know exactly why you missed the bonkers cells in the fungus. You've been so distracted the last few weeks, it's a wonder you haven't missed more."

I glare at him, willing my eyes to become lasers and turn him into a miserable pile of ashes on the spot.

"Listen, don't be angry. I was doing it for your own good. You're second to none at being clueless, but when it comes to…well, the rest of it, you are about as adept as Ward is at...feeling things."

My glare intensifies but remains decidedly laser-less.

"I just figured if you seemed a little more aloof, Skye might--"

"Shut up. Just shut up."

"Jemma, don't be mad. I promise, you'll thank me for it later, when you're--"

"Thank you for what?" says a voice that isn't mine.

I'm surprised that I don't give myself whiplash as I turn my head to see Skye standing at the top of the spiral staircase.

"For…" Fitz is struggling to come up with a lie.

"For ordering a case of Jammie Dodgers delivered to the S.H.I.E.L.D. field office in Manitoba," I turn back to Fitz, telling with my eyes him not to say another goddamn word.

He laughs nervously. "Yeah, Jammie Dodgers. Right."

I turn back to Skye, watching as she descends the stairs. In a few seconds, she's standing in front of me, her hair pulled back now, like it always is after she's been hard at work on something. She frowns when she sees that we're stepping out of our hazmat suits.

"Er, what's up with the suits?"

"Simmons missed something," Fitz pipes up triumphantly. "The fungus is super fungus."

Skye looks confused. "Super fungus?"

Fitz nods gleefully. "They're strong. And their cellular regeneration is amazing. Completely through the roof!"

She nods slowly, "Right. And how does super fungus equal hazmat suits, exactly?"

Fitz frowns, trying to find a suitable answer.

"They don't," I interject.

"You don't know that," Fitz says indignantly. "We still haven't figured out why you're fainting."

I roll my eyes. "Not this again," I grumble, "It's nothing. I'm just tired. I was up late working on the samples. I'm fine."

Even as I say it, I can feel an edge of doubt creeping in.

I can see that Fitz is about to argue when Coulson's voice booms over the bus-wide intercom.

"Take a seat, everybody. We're getting ready to touch down."

Obediently, we move to the bank of seats on the far wall. I notice Fitz maneuvering awkwardly, trying to position himself on my right side whilst sort of shepherding Skye to my left.

"Stop it," I hiss at him as we reach the seats. I sit down and begin buckling my seatbelt. Due in no small part to Fitz's efforts, he sits down on one side of me with Skye on my other.

"I'm just trying to help," he hisses back, buckling his own seatbelt.

"Well…stop. We're just friends, she and I. That's it," I whisper. I busy myself with fastening the mostly unnecessary shoulder harness before continuing. "I mean, can you imagine? Us? It would be a disaster. Total unmitigated disaster." Even as I say it, the words catch in my throat. I know it's not true. Or, at the very least, that there's no evidential support for my claim.

Fitz rolls his eyes in response, "Oh please, Simmons. I am many things, but a moron is not one of them. Especially when it comes to my best friend," he says those words with extra emphasis, trying, I suspect, to shame and guilt me into an admission. "It wouldn't be the end of days if you just admitted it, you know."

I say nothing in response, but instead turn to face forward and settle in to ignore him until we've landed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter up shortly!


	5. Should've

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banner joins the S.H.I.E.L.D. crew and Jemma soon finds herself up a tree. 
> 
> Also there is snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW. I said a few days and it was like twenty days and that makes me the worst. I'm sorry. BUT it's here now and it's a lot longer than it was. Much longer. And I didn't even mess with splitting it up because you deserve it after the terribly long wait I put you through. (also sorry it's spaced a little weirdly? Evernote really likes to do it's own thing re: formatting sometimes)
> 
> Thank you all so so much for your kind words/reviews/reblogs/follows/asks/favorites/kudos/subscriptions/bookmarks, etc. You have no idea the degree to which you give me life, you glorious gems.
> 
> As always, if you want Skimmons!Music, the playlist continues to grow. Send me a message/ask/whatever and I will supply you with a dandy Spotify link.
> 
> Okay. Enough talk. You all rule. <3

Chapter 5: Should've

I've hardly unbuckled my seatbelt when May opens the massive cargo door and Dr. Banner begins walking up the loading ramp and into the plane. He's got a bag slung over his shoulder and he looks a bit…rumpled, for lack of a better word.

I hear Coulson come up behind me.

"Didn't expect to see you here so soon, Banner."

Dr. Banner takes off his sunglasses and pockets them. He smirks at Coulson, "Didn't expect to see you at all, Coulson." He quirks an eyebrow, "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

If Coulson is thrown by Banner's statement, he doesn't show it.

"You can't tell the others."

"I know," Banner sighs dramatically, "I'm the keeper of many S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets. What's one more?"

"Is that right? Where do you store them all?"

"My hair, mostly. My diary, if it gets full."

Coulson cracks a smile. "It's good to see you, Banner."

Banner flashes a winning smile and extends his hand to shake Coulson's. "Likewise, Coulson."

Gesturing for Banner to follow him, Coulson heads up the steps. "Thanks for coming on such short notice," he throws over his shoulder as Banner trails behind him. "But how did you get up here so quickly? My people just had you on the phone a little over an hour ago."

"Hawkeye let me borrow the Sky-Cycle. Which was generous," he sighs, "though ultimately more of a curse than a blessing. It's fast, but it's not what I'd call 'luxe'."  
\----

"So you don't have any idea what it is?" Fitz's tone is almost accusatory as he addresses Dr. Banner.

We're all in the conference room, gathered around the table whilst Banner pulls my work up on the screen, inspecting it carefully but only muttering a few "hmmms" along with the occasional, "I've never seen that."

At Fitz's interruption (which earns him a swift blow to the back of the head, courtesy of Skye), Banner turns around to face us.

"As it turns out, no." He scratches his head, perplexed. "I have no idea what it is. Not without seeing it or where it came from."

Skye looks at him in a way that can only be described as 'glaring'.

Banner turns to me, "Jemma, I'll need you out in the field with me. If we can--"

"What? No," Skye cuts in, her eyes wide and her features furious, "she can't go out in the field. What if something happens?"

It's silent for a moment as everyone simply looks at Skye, surprised by her outburst and unsure how to respond.

Irritated, Skye huffs, "Well?"

When no one else says anything, I jump in. "Skye, it'll--"

She cuts me off, holding a hand up to silence me. "Not now, Simmons. "

I'm a little offended at that, but decide against challenging her at this particular moment.

Banner decides to step in cautiously. "I'll make sure nothing happens, Skye."

Fitz jumps in, too. "Don't worry, Skye. Dr. Banner has more P.h.D's than Simmons and I combined. If there's anyone qualified to handle an emergency in the field, it's him."

I silently thank Fitz for backing me up.

"Besides," he continues, "we ought to do everything can to find our what's going on with the fainting goat."

It takes me a moment to realise that he's referring to me, but when I do, I send him a glare that gives May a run for her money.

Ignoring Skye's protests, Coulson leans forward in his chair. "May, take Banner and Simmons to the site. Maybe we can shed a little light on this once we see where it came from." He turns to Ward, "You're with me. We're going to talk to the hikers who found the fungus and see what they know."

"What about us?" Fitz gestures to himself and Skye.

"You two stay on the bus."

Skye opens her mouth to say something, but Coulson silences her with a look. "Skye, I need you to dig around online and see if you can find anything about other sightings of strange fungi."

She rolls her eyes but nods.

"Good," he turns to the rest of us. "Everyone: get what you need and let's get moving."  
\---  
In the lab, Banner and I are packing field cases with everything we might need. Fitz is sitting on a stool in the corner, sulking.

"What am I supposed to do?"

I feel badly that he feels left out, but if I'm honest, I'm excited to work with Dr. Banner. He's a legend, even outside of the whole Hulk thing. I'm sure he's forgotten more about radiation than I'm ever likely to know.

Nearly ready, I slip into the small storage room off the lab to grab my parka. I nearly jump out of my skin when I turn around to find Skye leaning on the door frame.

"Jesus. You--"

"Be careful. Please."

She's not looking at me. Her eyes are glued to the floor, her mouth set in a hard line.

"Honestly, Skye, I--"

Fitz appears in the doorway then, oblivious to the fact that he's interrupting.

"Simmons," he says, "where we put those kinetic charges? I can't find the damned things anywhere."

With a tight-lipped smile, Skye straightens and shoves one of her hands in her pocket, barely looking up from the ground as she turns and walks away

Before I can call after her, May appears behind Fitz.

"Parka on, Simmons. Let's go."

I do as I'm told, pulling on my parka as May rolls her eyes and walks away, leaving Banner in the doorway. 

"You may want to put on an extra layer," he's smirking like a big brother who's just found his little sister scribbling hearts in her journal. "Just in case that blush eventually wears off."  
\--  
We've been walking through the woods for what seems like ages. Judging by the sun's position in the sky, it's been less than two hours.

May's leading the charge through the forest, preferring to lone wolf-it as much as she can. She's just barely staying in sigh and within earshot of Dr. Banner and I as we follow her trail.

After a bit of pleasant banter here and there, we've fallen into a comfortable silence as we make our way through the trees. That is, until Dr. Banner breaks it.

"Coulson's changed quite a bit. Seems like dying did him some good."

"Hmm?" I sidestep a wayward root that threatens to trip me. "I wouldn't know. I didn't meet him until after he…well, I only met him a few months ago."

Banner nods, ducking under a branch.

"He used to be very by-the-book. It's good to see he's lightened up."

I frown, not sure what he might be referring to. "How do you mean?"

"You and Skye," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I fail to sidestep the next tree root that comes my way and trip right the hell over it.

When I recover, I sputter a few fragmented protests before finally choking out a weak, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Obviously," Banner chuckles, shaking his head as he starts walking again.

"What do you mean 'obviously'?"

"Nothing," Banner smirks in response. " I think the site should be close. Just beyond the--"

The rest of his words are drowned out by the return of the sound of blood rushing through my veins. I stagger backwards, trying and failing to suck in air as I legs give way. Every one of my muscles is tense and on fire as I lay pathetically in the snow. Banner is beside me almost immediately, trying to say something.

It's no use, though. I can't hear a word he's saying.

I will myself to stay calm, trying to regain control of my lungs and reign my panic. 'It'll be over in a few seconds,' I think.

And it is, in a way. All at once, my senses snap to attention. My vision focuses and my hearing is suddenly clearer than ever. My muscles relax, but are now buzzing with an almost electric energy.

I rise to my feet with one fluid motion. My body feels somehow lighter, but I feel…stronger. I can feel my brain and my body synching up perfectly. It's simultaneously exhilarating and frightening--like being in the passenger seat of a Formula One car with no brakes.

I can feel my heart rate increase as my panic makes a reappearance. Banner stands up slowly, eyeing me cautiously.

"You alright, Simmons?" he asks.

I nod, "Yeah, yeah. Just fine." Lying has never been a talent of mine, but I'm hoping desperately that perception isn't one of his.

He's opening his mouth to say something when the sound of branches snapping interrupts him.

Without permission from my brain, my body kicks into high gear. My legs bend and then extend with explosive power, propelling me upwards as my hands reach out to grab a limb that hangs at least twenty-five feet off of the forest floor. Once I'm up there, though, whatever got me up here abandons me and I have no idea what to do. My body and my brain slow down, returning to a normal, less intense version of themselves.

I risk a glance down to find Banner looking up at me with an eyebrow raised. "You alright?" he asks, as a squirrel (the branch-snapping culprit, I suspect) hops across the trail that we've cleared.

Dangling there, with no idea how I'm going to get down, I blow out a heavy sigh.

"Yeah," I respond. "Peachy."

I'm about to ask him how he supposes I should get down when another voice joins the mix.

"Jemma? Jesus Christ, what are you doing up there?" Skye's voice drifts up through the cold air. I follow the sound to see her standing about twenty feet behind Banner.

"Skye? What are you--" I decide to abandon that particular stupid question in favor of a more pressing one. "Forget it. Any suggestions regarding an exit strategy?"

\--

Skye and Banner are bickering below me. I'm doing my best to keep my eyes closed so as to avoid looking down. I may not be able to see them, but it'd be damn near impossible not to hear them.

"What do you mean she 'just jumped up there'? It's twenty feet in the air!" Skye sounds less than pleased

"Feels a bit more like thirty now, if we're being honest." My voice is strained as I struggle to hold onto the massive branch.

"I'm as surprised as you are, honestly," Banner defends, "but that's how it went down. Or up, rather." He chuckles at his own pun.

"Clever." She doesn't sound like she thought it was clever. "Any suggestions on how to get to her down?"

I hear May's voice join the mix before Banner can respond.

"I told you two to keep up or call out if you found something." She pauses then continues, "What are you doing here? And what the hell is Simmons doing in the tree?"

That's when I hear Fitz stumble through the trees as he reaches the others.

"Finally," he gasps. "It's miserable out here. You three covered an impressive amount of ground."

"Do you not understand the meaning of the words 'stay on the bus?'" May's voice is a perfect blend of irritation and disinterest.

"Well I didn't want to be alone in the big plane," Fitz defends. "It's spooky when it's empty." It's silent as I assume everyone rolls their eyes in unison.

"So," he continues, "where's Jemma?"

I chance a look down to see Skye, May and Banner pointing up at me. He's shockingly cavalier when he finally sees me.

"Well well," he chuckles, "I'm going to go out on a limb and say this wasn't intentional."

\--

"Okay. 3..2..1!"

Nothing happens. I can't seem to make my fingers loosen from around the branch.

"I'm sorry, guys," I say, "I can't do it. It's too high."

"Jemma, we'll be right here. If anything happens…" Skye trails off, clearly not knowing what they'd do if anything happened. Very encouraging.

"We'll take care of it," Banner fills in. "Nothing to worry about."

I nod, not that they can see it.

May starts counting down again. "3…2…1."

This time, I manage to let go. My breath catches in my throat as I fall, but before I have time to scream, I barrel unceremoniously into the ground, landing roughly on my back.

They all gather round immediately, inspecting the damage.

"Alright, Jemma?" Fitz asks.

I can only manage a groan in response, closing my eyes tightly.

"Everything looks fine," Banner observes, checking my eyes and waving a gloved finger in front of my face. "Can you stand?"

If I hadn't just had the wind completely knocked out of me, I'd scoff at his 'everything looks fine' diagnosis. Before I can even attempt to protest his request that I stand, I feel someone tug one of my glove off. A small, cold and decidedly feminine hand slips into mine.

Momentarily forgetting the pain radiating through my back, I silently hope that it's not May's hand.

With no effort on my part, I'm on my feet in the next second, standing unsteadily.

"Whoa there," Skye holds onto me as I wobble slightly. Her right hand snakes around my back, coming to rest just below my shoulder blade whilst her left falls just above my hip. Suddenly feeling lightheaded, I reach out and steady myself with my hands on her arms, just above her elbows.

"You're alright," she says distractedly, in the way that most people say things when they're just filling up space. I am alright, I think. But she didn't say it because it was the truth; she said it because she accidentally looked me in the eyes for the first time since last night. Even though my lids are heavy and my vision is slightly unfocused, I know that my eyes are saying things I'd never planned to say out loud. I blame my probable concussion.

"Get her back to the bus," May says sharply. "Fitz, you can help Dr. Banner get what he needs."

I whip my head around, trying not to wince as the pressure behind my eyes makes my head feel like it's going to explode.

"I'm fine. Really, I don't need to go back to the bus. It's nothing. We'll just have a look around and we'll be done in no time."

Dr. Banner shakes his head, "That was quite the fall, Simmons. You ought to go back. I'll take plenty of pictures."

Hardly a compelling argument.

I'm about to say as much when Skye takes me by the hand, rendering my speech capabilities effectively useless.

Fitz looks smug, for good reason. Working with Dr. Banner is a privilege not many get to experience. If I could work up the energy, I'm sure I'd be green with envy.

I hear Banner say something to Skye, but another wave of momentary lightheadedness hits me and I can't make out his words. Skye must be satisfied with what he says, though. She nods resolutely and gently guides me towards the part of the forest that leads back to the bus.  
\--  
"Simmons, wake up."

I open my eyes obediently and groan as the bright light of the lounge sucker-punches me in the corneas.

Skye is sitting next to where I'm lying on the couch, typing furiously on her laptop. This is the third time she's roused me when I'm just on the precipice of some much-needed sleep

"Please, Skye," I whine pitifully. "Please just let me sleep?"

Skye shakes her head, barely looking up from her screen. "Banner said I shouldn't let you sleep for more than an hour at a time. He said you probably have a concussion and that if I let you sleep, you could die. Doctor's orders."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "Dr. Banner is full of it. That's not a real thing. And lest you forget, I am also a doctor."

Skye raises an eyebrow. "How many Ph.D.s does he have?"

"Five," I mumble.

"And you have?"

"Two," I sigh.

Skye nods, "Looks like he wins."

I suppose it is of no use arguing that Ph.D.s are not really a numbers game.

Instead, I pick up a magazine from the table and settle back into my position on the couch. My sincere hope is that I'll get away with a few minutes of sleep whilst she thinks that I'm reading. I make a show of turning the pages for a few minutes, then find a way to keep the magazine propped up without my holding it.

I am nearly asleep when she moves ever so slightly and I catch a whiff of the scent that's distinctly hers: clean and citrus-y with the slightest suggestion of coffee. It's the kind of smell that makes you feel warm all over; the kind that sort of makes you feel glad that you're alive to take it in. I can feel the corners of my lips lift as my eyelids droop.

The last thin wisps of consciousness are slipping through my fingers when I feel Skye gingerly remove the magazine from my grasp.

She pauses for a moment, but seems satisfied that I'm fully asleep as she leans forward to place the magazine back on the table. I'm sending out a telepathic wave of gratitude to her for not waking me up when her fingers push a strand of hair behind my ear. They linger there for a second and it's like some dark, whispered secret. Like something I wasn't meant to bear witness to.

If I wasn't who I am, if I were just a little more brave, I'd grab her hand and pull her closer to me on this too-big couch and kiss her so completely that no number of S.H.I.E.L.D. policies could possibly make any difference. If I wasn't who I am, I'd sit up and tell her what I'm thinking: that I don't want to only feel her touch when my eyes are closed. That I want to touch her all the time. In the lab, in the lounge, in the van, and every goddamn night before, during and after I've slept. I want to be able tell her when I'm thinking about her with my mouth and my hands, instead of just my eyes after she's turned around and walking away from me. I want so badly to sit up on this couch and kiss her until I can't breathe or think or move.

But I don't, because I am who I am.

I feel panic and disappointment swell in symphony in my chest as I feel her hand moving away. A chilly regret settles where her fingers were. If only I were a little more brave. I can feel the sharp sting of "should've" course through my veins, but i clench my teeth and let it pass because I'm not in the business of "should've"s.

And then I feel her fingertips on my shoulder blade, trailing softly over the fabric of my sweater and then splaying themselves out on my back. I hear her let out a long, slow breath. Her hand moves slowly, lazily adjusting to the curves of my shoulder and ribcage before coming to rest in the space just above my hip.

Breathing normally has never been so difficult.

\--

Waking comes to me like a missed step: totally baffling, with a little panic and accompanied by a few expletives.

It take me a moment to piece together why I'm waking up on a couch instead of my bed.

"Sorry," I hear a voice next to me say. I look up and to my right to find Skye, still sitting next to me with her computer on her lap and her left hand now typing away furiously on her computer.

"I didn't want to wake you, but..." she's distracted, squinting at the screen as she speaks.

"Skye," I say gently, "really, the whole 'sleep coma' concussion thing is mostly a myth."

"No, it's not that. I found something. At least, I think I found something. It could be nothing," she chews on the corner of her lip nervously. "I have no idea what it is, honestly."

Sitting up, I slide a little closer to her to get a better look at the screen. I'll admit to feeling a little guilty that a substantial amount of my brain power is focused not on the contents of Skye's screen, but on the feeling of her shoulder against mine and the fact that her knee is close to touching mine that I can feel the warmth of her body through my jeans. Hardly respectable or professional thoughts.

I clear my throat clumsily, "What am I looking at?"

"That's what I don't understand," Skye shakes her head, "it makes no sense. These are reports from a research facility on the Isle of Man. They say something about a radioactive incident. Someone signed off on them, but I can't find the follow-up reports that should've been filed."

"Isle of Man? Why would there be a research facility on the Isle of Man?"

"Well," Skye concedes, "more like in the Isle of Man. And the official documents say it's just some kind of natural resource research facility, but all of the reports look like they're written in some kind of code. It's in English, but the word's don't make any sense."

At first I think that she must just be unfamiliar with lab reports. To the untrained eye, they really don't make much sense. But when I catch a glimpse of one of the reports on the screen, I can see that she's right. Even to the trained eye these are nonsense.

"Who's official documents are these?" I struggle to find a seal on the reports, but come up empty. "This isn't natural resource research. Someone's definitely hiding something."

"That's just it," Skye finally turns to look at me, "the reports are S.H.I.E.L.D."


	6. It Worked For Captain Marvel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen, Banner says some stuff, Ward says almost nothing, Coulson frowns a bit, and Simmons continues to be bad at talking to Skye but suddenly excels at smashing things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellloooooo lovely lovely readers. I'm sure you thought I'd forgotten about and/or abandoned you. I have not. And will not. It just sometimes takes me awhile. But you're all such perfect magnificent gems. Fear not, I've returned and I've brought with me a chapter of some length.
> 
> In it, things happen! Stuff takes place. It's all a lot of fun. If we've learned one thing by the end of all this, I think it will be that Dr. Banner is really a very sassy guy.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter. You've waited a long time for it and I took a little extra time trying to get it just right. So, I hope it fills you with good feels and laughs and a little suspense and some mystery and just a dash of 'I want more'.
> 
> I made a few references here from some of my other favorite fandoms. Like lil easter eggs. They are likely more fun for me than they should be, but they're there all the same. If you see some, feel free to give a lil shout of fandom joy in the comments. I love hearing your (digital, silent) voices.
> 
> Finally, if you've made it this far in the author's note, awww, you're lovely. If I could, I would bestow many great gifts upon you. I can't, but I wish I could. Anyway, if you read all this and you're enjoying reading It's A Nuclear Show And The Stars Are Gone, drop a line in the comments with the #supersecret Shopgirl password: "Pesto Aioli".
> 
> P.S. - I haven't caught up on the most recent SHIELD ep but I will admit to some lol-ing upon the team's landing in Canada. Also loved the Banner reference last week. Everything is SHIELD and nothing hurts.
> 
> P.P.S. - If you'd like to follow this little story on tumblr, you can do that! Head over here: http://tesseractionhero.tumblr.com/
> 
> Alright, really now. On with the show.

Chapter 6

It Worked For Captain Marvel

\----

"Not possible," I stand up, shaking my head. "What would S.H.I.E.L.D. be doing with a facility of the Isle of Man?"

 

Skye pulls something up on her screen. "Like I said," she turns her laptop around to show me a set of complex and improbable-looking schematics . "Not on, _in._

 

"So you're saying--" 

 

"That whatever kind of facility it is, they buried it. Literally."

 

"And what kind of 'radioactive incident' did you say took place there?"

 

Skye appears thrown by the question. "Oh, er, it was nothing. Small potatoes, really." She laughs nervously.

 

"If it was nothing, why are they hiding--"

 

I'm cut off as the doors open to reveal Coulson and Ward. The're both sporting a number of cuts on their faces, one of which is large enough to send a thin trickle of blood down Coulson's right temple.

 

"I thought you guys were just interviewing the hikers."

 

"Long story," Ward grunts

 

I jump up and start toward the cupboard where we keep the first aid kit when Coulson holds up a hand to stop me.

 

"We're fine."

 

"But sir, you're--"

 

"Fine," he insists, "I promise. Heard you had a incident of your own. Everything alright?"

 

I nod. "Fine, sir. It was nothing, really."

 

He looks doubtful, but his attention shifts toward the couch, where Skye's still seated with her laptop. 

 

"Did you find anything?" he asks.

 

Skye nods, "I think so," she turns the screen to show him the reports. "Isolated incident at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility in the Isle of Man."

 

Coulson's brow furrows as he looks from the reports to Skye and back again. 

 

"You're sure?"

 

Skye nods.

 

Coulson sucks in a deep breath. "Right. Okay. I'll tell May where we're headed as soon as she and the others get back."

 

Skye nods as he turns around and exits the lounge in the direction of the pods. 

 

Ward looks back and forth between Skye and I several times, squinting as if he's trying to piece something together. In the end, though, he seems to give up, shrugging and following Coulson without saying anything.

 

In his absence, the air in the room seems to lighten a little. 

 

"Talk about a hostile work environment," I laugh lightly. It wouldn't be funny if I didn't know that Ward always enjoys a mission that gets a little messy. Punching his way out of bad situations is fun for him. Typical Ops.

 

"Yeah. Rough day in the Great White North," Skye joins in, rolling her eyes as she closes her laptop and rubs her eyes.

 

"You should switch to your glasses," I suggest. "Your eyes must be tired, looking at that tiny screen."

 

Skye looks at me, a small smile on her lips. When I catch them briefly, her eyes do look tired, despite their warmth. She tries (and fails) to stifle a yawn.

 

"Perhaps you're the one who needs a nap," I suggest, leaning against the bar. 

 

"You might be right," she nods sleepily, "Do you mind? I mean, we could--"

 

"I'm going to take another look at the samples in the lab, I think."

 

"Oh. Okay," she nods. She busies herself with gathering her laptop. "Are you sure you're okay? I can--"

 

"I'm sure," I cut in. "Go get some sleep. I'll come get you when May, Fitz and Banner are back."

 

Skye looks at me then, her eyes asking a question I don't think I understand.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yeah," I assure her lightly, "Of course."

 

That seems to satisfy her. With her laptop in her arms, she stands and moves to walk past me, towards the pods. Before she can get far, however, her foot catches on a loose bit of carpet. The same one I _distinctly_ remember asking Ward to fix several times over the last few weeks. 

 

Without total comprehension of what's going on around me, my vision snaps into sharp focus and my muscles coil beneath my skin. I watch as Skye stumbles, falling forward. In the very next moment, I'm diving, reaching out and grab her...laptop . Before it crashes to the floor. 

 

My fingers close around it and I tuck it under my arm before rolling into a very impressive and totally uncharacteristic somersault. I right myself just in time to see Skye land unceremoniously on the ground with a distinct 'thump'. 

 

I wince, realising too late that perhaps I should've prioritized the girl over the laptop. And they say chivalry is dead…

 

Skye groans as she pulls herself into a sitting position on the floor.

 

Feeling like a complete moron, I speak up sheepishly. 

 

"Are you, er, okay?"

 

Skye nods, "Just clumsy, that's all."

 

I silently seethe at Ward for not fixing the damn carpet. It's _his_ fault that I look like a useless--

 

"Oh thank god," Skye breathes a sigh of relief. 

 

I shoot her a questioning look as I extend my hand to help her up.

 

"You caught the laptop. You're a hero," Skye laughs, taking my hand and pulling herself to her feet. 

 

"Oh, er, yeah. No problem," I hand her the laptop, which she immediately hugs to her chest like a holy relic.

 

Skye just smiles warmly at me, then tucks a stray stand of hair behind her ear and looks down at her feet intently.

 

"Anyway," she nods absently, "I should let you get to the lab."

 

I nod, too. I feel like there's something else that I should say, but she's walking away from me before I can even begin to figure out what it might be. 

 

\---

 

With more force than I'd intended, I slam my safety glasses down onto the hard metal of the lab table, shattering them into several smaller pieces of hard plastic. 

 

"Careful there, muscles," says a voice behind me.

 

I whip around to see Dr. Banner, who's carrying two large field cases and has a bag slung over his shoulder. Because my parents taught me manners so young that they're essentially second-nature now, I rush over and relieve him of the cases and hoist them onto the nearest table. 

 

"What'd you find?" I ask, unable to contain my eagerness.

 

Banner sets his bag next to the cases and shrugs off his chunky parka. 

 

"Well," he says uncertainly, "plenty. But it's what we didn't find that concerns me most."

 

" _Didn't_ find?"

 

Banner nods, "The source of the radiation. I expected to find something obvious, but all we found were trace amounts of radiation. Barely more than you'd expect to find in your local Buy More."

 

"And you checked the entire area?"

 

"Yeah. Full square-mile around the initial discovery site. Nothing," he opens up the field case and extracts laptop, opening it and placing it on the table. "We did, however, place some probes."

 

"Probes?"

 

"I brought some prototypes," Banner pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out in front of me on his palm. "One never shows up to a S.H.I.E.L.D. party empty-handed."

 

In his hand is a small, spherical object, no bigger than a dime. It appears to be made of a cool, dull metal, and thin, delicate lines trace an intricate pattern across its surface.

 

He squeezes the probe lightly between two fingers and immediately, it begins whirring. As it levitates just above his hand, light radiates from inside of it. The lines on its surface come alive with a thin trickles like glowing vines before it shutters to life, projecting a holographic field above it at about eye-level.

 

"What is that?" I ask, enthralled. 

 

"H.E.R.M.A.N."

 

"H.E.R.M.A.N.?"

 

"The H.E.R.M.A.N. device. Highly Experimental Radiation Monitoring And Neutralizing."

 

"Catchy."

 

Banner scowls at me and turns his attention back to the probe. It spits out a few rogue jets of light before it manages to display a few data points with corresponding markers on what I assume is a scaled-down rendering of the area surrounding the irradiated discovery site.

 

"Like I said," Banner sighs, "it's a prototype."

 

"Is that--?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"But how can that--?"

 

"That's what I said when I saw it."

 

I step away and shake my head, frustrated. 

 

"Listen," Banner says, "I know it's not exactly good news. Whatever was there is gone now. But we do have some hints." 

 

I nod, but don't feel especially comforted. Something weird is going on with me and we have no idea what it is, what caused it, if it's permanent, or if it's dangerous. 

 

"I have an idea," Banner sets the probe down on one of the large tables, then opens and closes a few drawers until he finds what he's looking for. When he's satisfied with the syringe and the vials he's collected, he turns to me and nods once.

 

"Now," he says, "sit and roll up your sleeve."

 

\----

 

"One more and I won't have any left."

 

"Hush. It's just a few tests," Banner swabs yet another place on my arm and prepares a new syringe to take more blood. "Any more developments?"

 

I can feel my face flush, despite how much blood Dr. Banner's taken from me. 

 

"Uh, no. Not really. I mean, there was a thing on the couch. But she's really hard to read. Or maybe she's not and it's just me." I realize that I'm rambling and stop for a breath. "Do you think she's hard to read?"

 

Banner smirks, "For the record, I was talking about developments in your 'condition'. The jumping-thirty-feet-into-a-tree thing."

 

I'm a little pre-occupied with wishing that the ground would open up and swallow me whole when Banner sticks the needle in my arm to take the last sample.

 

"To answer your question, though," he says as he finishes, "I think she's about as hard to read as cereal box."

 

I take a moment to glare at him as he dabs away a little bit of blood and fits a plaster over the cotton swab there.

 

"I can see where you'd have trouble, though." He stands and goes to work prepping the vials.

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" I frown as I roll my sleeve back down.

 

"Nothing," Banner waves away my question, "You never answered my question: Any new developments on the mutant front?"

 

"I'm not a mutant."

 

"Oh really? Interesting," he nods. "Probably for the best. Scott can be a bit, er, _difficult_ to work with. What would you call it, then?"

 

I don't necessarily have an answer. 

 

"Whatever it is," Banner opens one of the cabinets and begins pawing through solutions, "we'll know more in about 45 minutes."

 

\--

 

In an attempt to entertain himself while he waited for the test results, Dr. Banner had begun unpacking the field cases. I tried to help him, but when I went stow the very delicate, very expensive S.H.I.E.L.D.-issue scanner, I may have underestimated my abilities and smashed it to pieces when I put it on the shelf.

 

I tried to explain that the scanner was already a little bit broken and that it wasn't like I 'Hulk Smashed' it, but my protest fell on deaf ears as he instructed me to sit down and proceeded to make poor attempts at humor by listing the possible befits to being an irradiated super freak, much like himself.

 

"Think about it," he'd said, "you'd never have to ask for help with a jam jar. And my bet is that there's nary a tree you can't scale."

 

Shortly after that, I'd decided that 45 minutes was an awfully long time to listen to Banner tell me that "at least now I'll be able to carry all of the grocery sacks in one trip."

 

Now, I'm trying to keep busy with a little walk around the Bus. Not wanting to answer an onslaught of questions from Fitz or May (not that May's much of a conversationalist, but better safe than sorry), I stick to the less oft-traveled passages in the plane. Namely those leading to storage and server rooms, the weapons locker, and the power station. 

 

When I arrive at the door that leads to the control room, I'm struck with an idea. A wonderful, terrible idea. 

 

The control room houses the majority of the electrical components that fine-tune the various gadgets and whizz-bangs on board. Things like the holotable, the communication devices, and the signal boosters the deliver a wi-fi signal to the entire plane. 

 

Once I commit to the plan, it doesn't take me but a minute, all told. I slip into the small room quietly (not that there's anyone around to hear me anyway) and unplug a few surprisingly accessible cables. Moments later, I emerge, feeling light with amusement.

 

Only 42 minutes now.

\--

 

I'm wondering now if this was a real thing. I know I had promised to wake her, now I'm sort of getting the feeling that just one those things you say you'll do without following through. Like saying 'we should hang out more' or 'we should stay in touch'. Also, Skye really hates being woken up. She's very cranky, and if I'm honest, I'm not overly eager to be on the receiving end of her post-nap grumpiness.

 

Before I can agonize too much, I hear voices from inside. Specifically, Fitz's voice, followed by Skye's. They're muffled, but as I lean closer to the door I can make out what they're saying.

 

"I thought you said you were going to say something about it."

 

Even through the door I can tell that's his judgmental voice.

 

"I was going to," Skye says, "something just came up."

 

"Riiiiiiight. How convenient."

 

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, I know you're a little busy with the mutant fungus, but any chance you can take a break so we can talk about my feelings for a hot minute?' Come on."

 

I get the feeling that they're talking about me and feel my cheeks warm considerably.

 

"Okay, obviously not," Fitz concedes, "I see your point. Tonight, then."

 

"What? No. Not tonight."

 

"For Christ's sake, Skye. Why not?"

 

"Because she fell out of a tree today. What's more, she _apparently_ jumped thirty feet straight up into said tree."

 

"Excuses," he retorts flippantly. "Also it was more like twenty-five."

 

I hear Skye groan in frustration. 

 

"Listen," Fitz continues, "this is for your own good. If not tonight, when?"

 

"Shut up," Skye says offhandedly. "I'll get to it. When this all blows over."

 

"And if it doesn't?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"What if this doesn't 'all blow over'?"

 

"What do you mean?" Skye sounds irritated.

 

"I mean, it might not blow over. Look at Banner. Gamma radiation is serious business."

 

"Oh jesus," I can almost hear her rolling her eyes, "First, Simmons is not the Hulk. Second,"

 

She pauses and I have to stop myself from bursting into the room to find out what, exactly, is second.

 

After a few moments that felt like hours, she continues, "it doesn't change anything."

 

When I hear the door mechanism for the pod begin sliding to open it, I bound into my own pod with speed that I was almost sure I'd never be capable of. I'm just barely behind through the open door when I hear Skye's footsteps nearing. 

 

In the next moment, I feel myself listing. On instinct, I reach out to grab something to steady myself, but come up empty in the sparsely decorated pod. Though case study after case study has proven that it will do more harm than good, I tense in preparation for the fall. And I do fall. Hard.

 

There's a dull 'thud' when my ribcage hits the corner of the bed frame, and a louder, more resonant variation of the same 'thud' when my shoulders, head and back hit the floor in quick succession. 

 

So much for being discreet.

 

As I knew she would be, Skye is in the doorway a second later, and kneeling beside me the second after that. Her face is painted with the same concerned expression that seems to have scarcely left over the last 18 hours. 

 

"Simmons?" her voice is anxious and I immediately feel badly for getting caught but even worse for worrying her. Truly, it doesn't hurt at all. I know from both experience and several hundred hours of research on how the human body reacts to injury and trauma that it _should_ hurt, but it doesn't. In the end, this is perhaps more worrisome.

 

"Simmons, are you alright? What happened?" Her eyes flick over my features, checking for any sign of injury or distress.

 

A little stiff from the tension but not in pain, I prop myself up on my elbows and pretend to wince to avoid looking Skye in the eyes. "Just fine," I answer, my voice strained from embarrassment, not as a result of injury. "I just lost my balance, that's all. I was just coming to see you, actually."

 

I can see the small smile on Skye's face as she ducks her head, biting the corner of her lip as she shakes her head. "And here I'd thought you'd forgotten," she laughs.

 

"Of course not," I defend, "Banner's just been busy taking all of my blood for samples in the lab."

 

"I see," Skye nods sympathetically. "Did he find anything?"

 

I pull myself to my fleet slowly, shrugging.

 

"We'll know in about 20 minutes."

 

"What about the discovery site? Anything there?"

 

I shake my head, "Nothing, really. Some trace amounts of radiation, but not enough to tell us anything substantial."

 

Skye nods again as she stands, but doesn't say anything in response. The silence quickly becomes thick and heavy. I feel now, more than ever before, the effects of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sparse utilitarianism. This space is hardly big enough for one, but with Skye standing in my pod in front of me, I feel like there's no space at all.

 

I regret acknowledging that fact, even internally, when I feel the my cheeks getting warm. I wrack my brain for an excuse to get out of here, but come up empty.

 

Skye's looking me in the eyes, then. Hers are light, almost illuminated from within. Her lips curve upward in an amused smile, but her eyes are alive with something else entirely. There's a hint of the the mischievous glint that appears when she's teasing me, saying something to get me riled up. She's done it a hundred times before, little quips here and there while we're working in the lab. They come with the territory, the easy rapport we've developed. She's been so distant the last few weeks, though, I'd almost forgotten how easily it came.

 

I feel my lips forming a smile, finding it hard to remain anxious. I'm still hyper aware of how close she is, my heart's still pounding, but now it feels more like a piece finally falling to place and less like driving a car with no breaks on a narrow mountain pass.

 

"Skye, I…" I trail off, not sure what it is I need to say.

 

Skye raises her eyebrows, her expression asking a question without speaking any words.

 

When I don't answer, she prompts me a little more.

 

"Simmons?"

 

I can feel my head become suddenly light as my peripheral vision dulls.

 

 _Not now,_ I plead with my own body, _I need to say something._

 

What it is, I'm not sure, but before I even have a chance to elaborate, Fitz appears in the doorway.

 

"What're you doing up here, Simmons? I thought Banner was running some tests in the lab?"

 

Just like that, his presence snaps me back to reality. Everything returns to sharp focus and my eyes are still on Skye's when my head clears. 

 

"Simmons was just grabbing a book for me," Skye covers for me quickly.

 

Puzzled, but catching on quickly, I grab the book that's sitting on my bed. 

 

"Right," I say, handing it to her and trying not react when her fingertips brush my knuckles. "I think you'll enjoy it," I manage to choke out.

 

Skye smirks, not even looking at the book. "I don't doubt it."

 

Fitz looks at the book, though. 

 

"'The Complete History of Spinal Column Restructuring and Enhancement'," he reads from the cover. "Bit of light reading, then Skye?"

 

"You know what they say," she fires back, "never stop learning."

 

"I see," Fitz nods before turning his attention to me. "Shouldn't you be in the lab with Banner, Simmons?"

 

Seeing a graceful way out of this situation, I jump on it, perhaps a little too eagerly. 

 

"Right. Yes, you're absolutely right," I slip past Skye and impress myself when I manage not to falter as her hand grazes my lower back. "I should get back down there," I say with more conviction than I feel. 

 

Fitz, mercifully, steps out of my way, allowing me to slip past him into the hall. I pretend not to notice that they're both shooting perplexed looks at my back as I hurry back down the hall in the direction of th lab.

 

\------

 

"How much longer?"

 

"About two minutes and forty seconds less than the last time you asked."

 

I let out a groan of frustration. I don't really even know _what_ he's testing for, but I'm tired of waiting.

 

Only a moment later, Banner's phone goes off, playing an 8-bit version of "I Am Iron Man".

 

"Really?"

 

Banner shrugs, smirking as he silences it. He removes the samples from the various pieces of equipment he's deemed necessary, them pulls up a myriad of results and reports on the holo table.

 

Upon first glance, I'm relieved. Everything looks normal. Great, actually. 

 

A little too great.

 

"Is that--?"

 

Banner nods, squinting. "I think so?"

 

I shake my head. "I've never seen that. Ever. It's like--"

 

"Exactly."

 

I'm not sure what I was expecting. On some level, this makes sense. The results are consistent with what we saw in the fungal samples. 

 

"What does it mean?" I ask, not sure that I want an answer. 

 

When Banner doesn't supply one, I look up. Lucky I did, too, as I'm just in time to see a large glass beaker hurtling towards my face, too fast and too close for me to possibly catch it. 

 

And yet, without panic or hesitation, I feel my hand rise to meet it. I catch it effortlessly, plucking it from the air. 

 

"What the hell was that?!" I turn to Banner, incredulous.

 

He shrugs, "Testing a theory. I was right, by the way."

 

I balk at him. "And if you'd been wrong?"

 

"Then you'd probably be more angry, and quite a bit more bloody. But, lucky for you, I'm almost never wrong." He smiles smugly.

 

Still seething, I move to place the beaker on the table. Unfortunately, I underestimate my strength and set it down with more force than I'd intended. As is normally the case with glassware, it shattered under excessive force, sending shards of glass all over the table and floor whilst a few embedded themselves in my hand.

 

Banner is by my side a moment later, examine the damage and carefully plucking the pieces from my skin. 

 

"Nothing too serious," he informs me, as though I don't have several Ph.d's and couldn't ascertain this information on my own. I don't say that, though. I just nod, because he's helping and I'm not eager to dig the glass out of my own flesh. 

 

When he's removed the last piece, he crosses the room to retrieve the bandages from the drawer in one of the desks. Before he's returned, though, I look down at my hand and feel my eyes widen.

 

I can see my skin stretching and growing, repairing itself at hyper-speed to cover the wounds. Upon reaching my side again, Banner follows my line of sight to my hand.

 

"Whoa," is all he says.

 

"Yeah," I nod. "Whoa."

 

\---

 

"You rang?"

 

I jump, startled when I hear Coulson's voice behind me in the lab.

 

Dr. Banner smiles from behind the holotable projection. 

 

"'Bout time. Dying really slowed you down."

 

"I got held up in the cockpit. What's up?"

 

Banner pulls up the results from the initial tests and displays them on the holotable.

 

Coulson considers them for a moment, then shakes his head slowly. "Sorry, guys. All greek to me. What is it?"

 

Neither Banner nor I answer immediately. After a few moments, I step in hesitantly.

 

"Well…we're not sure."

 

Coulson's confused look encourages me to continue.

 

"The results of the blood samples show extremely high levels of--"

 

"Simmons," Coulson cuts me off, "keep it simple. Please. Been a long day."

 

"Right. Well, basically, the tests are normal except for the cellular breakdowns."

 

Coulson raises his eyebrows, "and those are…?"

 

"Decidedly not," Banner fills in.

 

"Then what are they?" Coulson asks.

 

"Short answer? We're not sure yet." He comes around from behind the holotable and stands in front of Coulson and I. "But think Super-Serum and Vita-Ray plus irradiated super-fungus." Banner turns to me, "Show him your hand, Simmons."

 

I do, still a little shocked myself. The skin is still red and a little irritated, but it's shiny where the new skin has healed. It looks like a wound that's a few days into the healing process already.

 

Coulson looks concerned when he sees the cuts. "What happened?"

 

"Erm, beaker. It, uh, broke." I avoid looking Coulson in the eyes, embarrassed.

 

"When?" he asks.

 

"'Bout 8 minutes ago," Banner says, looking at his watch.

 

Coulson looks awed at first, but a dark, anxious expression quickly settles across his face.

 

"Keep this between the two of you for right now. Until we know what we're dealing with in Scotland. In the meantime, make a note of everything, Simmons. Headaches, nausea, anything."

 

"Should we send anything to the labs at the Hub?" I ask.

 

Coulson shakes his head, "No. Let's keep this in-house." He looks like he wants to say something more, but decides against it. He turns to leave, but stops before he's through the doors, looking like he's about to say something more. But, he must decide against it, as he continues on a moment later and quickly disappears up the stairs and out of sight.

 

\--

 

Banner and I have been working in the lab for hours. I'm not sure how long it's been, exactly, but it feels like days since Coulson left.

 

"Enough," Banner groans, sitting back from the microscope and rubbing his eyes. "There's nothing more to find here. We can't do anything until we get to a proper lab, with bigger, more expensive equipment."

 

I nod, yawning.

 

"Back to the important matter at hand, then," Banner says.

 

I have a feeling I know what he's referring to. He's scarcely left it alone all afternoon. 

 

"No," I say, "there's nothing else to discuss. And stop meddling. It's annoying."

 

Banner scowls, but ignores my criticism in favor of continued meddling.

 

"What?" Banner shrugs, "It’s not so ridiculous."

"It  _is_ , though,” I insist, continuing to transport the vials from one tray to the other.

"It’s not like you’d be the first."

"What do you mean?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"Agent Hill and Cap."

I put the last vial in the tray and turn my full attention to him. “Really? I never pegged Captain America—”

"Not Captain America. Captain Marvel."

I nod slowly in recognition. Part of me thinks that maybe he has a point. Am I the only thing stopping me? I wish I could say that I’ve never been one to stand in my own way, but I think I can safely say that self-doubt has been one of my biggest adversaries thus far in life. 

Banner secures his own tray of vials in an insulated drawer, then picks up one of the lab stools to stow it, in case we hit turbulence.

"You don’t really have much choice now, Simmons. You’ve got to be extraordinary. It’d be a shame to limit yourself."

Without warning, he hurls the heavy stool at me. The force isn’t quite Hulk-like, but it’s enough to do some serious damage at such short range. Before I even have a chance to think about it, my hand rises to meet it, wrapping around the metal and stopping it effortlessly. 

I shoot him a steely glare. He seems to think that suddenly gaining unexplainable ‘super’ attributes is some kind of joke. Bruce Banner of all people should know that it is not.

"Don’t look so forlorn. You ought to get some mileage out of it. Could be temporary, after all," he shrugs. "And hey, at least you don’t have ‘big, green and ugly’ to contend with. This may actually help you. Worked for Captain Marvel."

I lower the stool to the ground and stow it, choosing not to dignify his quip with a response. 

"You have to admit," he continues, "there are some  _interesting_  parallels.”

I will admit no such thing. And in an attempt to prove that point, I shrug off my lab coat, hang it on the hook near the door, and exit the lab. 

Banner is right on my heels, though, unflappable.  

"I’m just saying you should give it some thought. Life’s short. And in our line of work, probably shorter."

Sound advice, but not especially comforting.

\---

Having wrapped up everything in the lab, Banner and I head upstairs.

 

To call today a long day would be a criminal understatement. Despite whatever kind of super-serum might be coursing through my veins, I am well and truly exhausted.

 

When I reach the door of my pod, I can feel my eyelids drooping as I enter the code to open my door.

 

I'm in my pajamas moments later, two seconds from sprawling out on my bed, when I hear Fitz's voice in the hallway. 

 

"It's working in mine, Skye. Don't know what to tell you."

 

Skye groans in frustration. "I've checked everything. Every other pod's fine. It's got to be the signal booster."

 

I lean against the doorway, watching as Fitz shakes his head, "How could it be? They're simple. Sturdy. 'Bout the only way to break them is to unplug them from the mainframe in the control room."

 

When Skye doesn't say anything in response and Fitz breathes out an exaggerated sigh, I _almost_ consider fessing up. Almost. 

 

But I don't, so a moment later, Fitz leaves, grumbling, "Fine. I'll go check it." 

 

"Internet troubles?" I ask innocently.

 

Skye jumps, clearly not realizing that I was there. 

 

"Sorry," I say sheepishly, "didn't mean to startle you."

 

She waves off my apology with a hand that's covered in the too-long sleeve of the S.H.I.E.L.D. jumper she absconded with last night.

 

"Don't worry about it," she laughs breathily, "just a little jumpy ever since the whole ghost-on-board incident."

 

I nod, smirking and just now noticing the way her nose wrinkles ever-so-slightly when she laughs.

 

"But yes," Skye continues, "Internet's acting up. Fitz thinks it might be the booster."

 

"That's odd," I feign a frown, "mine's working." I pause, hoping that it sounds like the thought _just_ occurred to me when I say, "You can come in and use it. If you'd like." 

 

Any guilt I may have been feeling over unplugging Skye's signal booster and letting Fitz run around trying to fix it quickly dissipates when Skye smiles brightly. She laughs quietly as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks me right in the eyes. Hers are warm and bright and radiant in a way that I always think I could never forgot but am surprised by every time. So this time, I hold her gaze just a moment longer than I normally would, trying to take them in. In this moment, I think that maybe she knows.

 

"I'd love to," she says, turning away only for a moment as she grabs her laptop from the table beside her bed. In a few short strides, she's in front of me, then slipping past me into my room. "You're a lifesaver, Simmons."

 

I laugh and shake my head, but don't argue as I close the door to the pod. When I turn around, she's settling into the same side of the bed she occupied last night and opening her laptop. I feel the corners of my lips lift slightly. I'm glad she didn't go for the chair. So very glad.

 

"Is this okay?" she asks nervously, noticing after a few moments that I'm looking at her and not moving to get into the bed. "I can move if you want m--."

 

"No," I say, maybe a little to quickly. Shaking my head, I try to recover, "don't be ridiculous. You're not sitting in that awful chair again. You're fine right there."

 

Skye's expression softens into a shy smile. 

 

Despite a valiant attempt to stifle it, a yawn escapes my mouth.

 

"Simmons, just get in here," Skye tosses back one side of the sheets. "You must be exhausted."

 

I nod, unable to deny it. Slowly and carefully, I climb into the bed and under the sheets. My whole body practically sighs in relief, finally letting go of the tension it's been holding all day. Between traipsing across the frozen tundra and finding out that I may or may not have some kind of _superhuman abilities_ that I can't tell anyone about, today hasn't exactly been a breeze.

 

I get comfortable, knowing that I won't be able to keep my eyes open for much longer, but I suck in a quick breath when I feel Skye lean over me to turn off the light. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try not to think too hard about the way her hip is touching mine or about the way that all of her is so close to me. Close enough that I can smell her shampoo: sweet and fresh and light.

 

"Is my screen going to bother you?" she asks quietly. "I don't want to keep you up. I can go to the lounge."

 

She shifts slightly, but I grab her wrist gently. "Stay," I say without opening my eyes. "It won't bother me."

 

"Are you sure?" 

 

I nod, "Positive. I want you here." 

 

As my words hang in the air, I swallow nervously. I hadn't meant to say it like that. So honestly.

 

After a few moments of nerve-wracking silence, Skye says only one thing:

 

"Really?"

 

"Really."

 

I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, "Okay." The word sounds heavy when she says it. Like it's carrying something beyond an agreement to share my wi-fi and my bed for the night.

 

"Okay?"

 

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! Yay, you.
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter. You're all so great and I'm so glad that there are people reading this lil project. 
> 
> Again, if you're reading my dumb words on the beginning/end of these chapters and you're enjoying It's A Nuclear Show And The Stars Are Gone, drop me a line in the comments with the #supersecret Shopgirl password: "Pesto Aioli". I'd love to hear from you. It makes my whole dang week. 
> 
> Okay. Enough talk. Until next time, cuties. <3


	7. Yoghurt & Other Disasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blenders are complicated machines. Turns out, so are brains. Particularly when you add super-fungus to the mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> I disappeared on you for ages and left you without a clue of where I was or whether or not I'd be back.
> 
> Well, I am back. And I've got more words. 
> 
> I've loved reading your comments and asks and reviews and feedbacks and messages and everything else. You guys are the greatest most lovely readers in the entire universe, Marvel or otherwise. Your support and general loveliness is what keeps me going. So thank you thank you thank you. Without you, this story would be 1.5 chapters long.
> 
> As it stands, it's looking like it may end up being longer than the originally planned 10 chapters. Or perhaps we'll wrap up this arc at 10 and start a second story with new problems, challenges, etc. Like a Part II. We'll find out. But I've become really attached to these two and to writing Jemma specifically. I don't know that I'm ready to leave her just yet. If you have any particular opinions on this matter, feel free to weigh in!
> 
> Anyway, enough chat. The words are below. Enjoy!

When I wake up, my bed's empty. I try hard not to feel disappointed by this. 

It takes me a moment to place the sound that woke me: harsh and biting with a sort of brain-scrambling quality about it.

 _A blender_ , I realize, wincing.

Obviously it's not an altogether unfamiliar sound, but on the bus it mostly sits in the corner on the counter in the small kitchenette collecting dust. Or at least it would, if the bus didn't employ the latest and greatest cabin air filtration and purification systems. 

Our food selection on the bus isn't what you might call 'gourmet'. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s approach to our culinary needs much resembled the approach to our sleeping situation: necessities would be provided but luxuries were, well, a _luxury_ we couldn't afford. 

We make do with mostly dry foods and non-perishables. As such, there isn't much to blend, per se. Which is why the sound seems especially out of place this morning.

Driven by curiosity, I throw back the covers and get up, creeping to the door of my pod and exiting quietly.

As I round the corner that leads to the kitchenette, I do my level-best not to laugh.

There, standing at the counter in my S.H.I.E.L.D. jumper, completely covered in yoghurt and what looks like strawberries is Skye. From the looks of it, she turned on the blender but neglected to put the top onto the container. You don't need a degree in Physics to deduce what happened next. I do have one, though, for the record.

Skye blows out a heavy sigh, chuckling a little bit despite herself. Before I can stop myself, I let out a small laugh too. Skye looks up at the sound, her expression sheepish. 

"Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you," she looks around, assessing the damage. "Seems like I've made a mess."

Smirking, I cross the short distance to the kitchenette to see for myself. As I lay eyes on the counter--which is completely covered in the pink goop of would-be smoothie--I nod appreciatively. "Seems you have."

Skye bites her bottom lip and ducks her head. "Sorry about your sweatshirt. I'll wash it, I swear."

Looking at her, I can honestly say that a smoothie-covered jumper was pretty much the last thing on my mind. And now, behind the counter and standing next to her, I could see that she's wearing only my jumper, likely having shed her pajama bottoms in the night. The pods do tend to get quite warm, I suppose.

I find it difficult to respond for a moment, but do eventually manage to remember that she'd said something to me.

"Don't worry about it," I wave away her concern genuinely. "I think it suits you just like that," my tone is teasing, and I'm hoping it will cover up the fact that I wouldn't have been upset to find her in my best clothes, covered from head to toe in smoothie if it meant she'd look at me exactly the way she is right now.

"I was trying to make smoothies," she says, as if that much wasn't obvious. "I picked up some strawberries and yoghurt a few days ago while we were in Pennsylvania." She rubs the back of her neck with a yoghurt-smeared hand. "I wanted to make us a real breakfast for once instead of the usual dried fruit and oats." She tries to laugh off the disappointment, "Clearly it didn't work out so well." Her voice is light but her eyes give away the fact that she's a bit dejected.

And in this moment, I swear that I can feel my heart grow two sizes, a-la the Grinch. Without thinking, I reach up and gently wipe a smear of smoothie from her cheek with my finger and proceed to put it in my mouth, humming exaggeratedly. "Hmmmmm," I nod emphatically, "It's delicious. Honestly, totally, without a doubt the absolute best smoothie I've ever had."

Then, almost as if by magic, her expression brightens. Her lips spread into a smile that reaches her eyes and her nose crinkles in that way that is distinctly Skye.

"You think?" she asks, wiping a glob from the arm of the jumper and tasting it. She considers it for a moment. "Hmmm, you know, you might be right. It's not half bad."

"Silly Skye," I smile, "you should know by now that I'm almost never wrong."

She rolls her eyes. "Right, of course. Silly me." She looks at me with amusement and tenderness and I can feel the breath catch in my throat as my cheeks warm rapidly.

You know, there are some mornings, when you wake up, get out of bed and do a number of things with little to no thought or consideration. It's almost as if sleep hangs on the edges of your brain and you're still drunk on it, intoxicated and defenseless. You go through the motions, your basic instincts, habits and motivations taking over. Dr. Vedantam calls it 'the hidden brain'. 

I can only assume that it was for this reason or a similar one that I, without full consent of my brain, step closer to Skye, propelled forward by a force I can neither see nor stop. I'm suddenly in front of her, just centimeters from touching her. 

 

"Maybe, you know, just to be sure…" I hear myself trail off.

Seemingly all on their own, my hands are on her shoulders and my lips on her cheek, gently kissing a patch of yoghurt-covered skin.

I sense her surprise and my first instinct is to pull away, to retreat. Ever single cell in my body seems to agree, but suddenly I feel as thought I've been reduced to a miniature version of myself, trying (and failing) to control my body, which acts without my consent. This is something more than sleep-drunk boldness and I linger there, my lips on her skin, only millimeters from the corner of her mouth, for what seems like the length of an Ice Age.

This is not a Jemma Simmons thing to do. And I don't mean in a 'sometimes you surprise yourself' kind of way. I mean in a 'this is actually, literally, totally 100% not me'. I am seeing and hearing and feeling everything, but controlling nothing. It's as if my brain is shouting at my body to move, to step back, to turn around leave the room at all costs, but my muscles aren't getting the message. They move of their own volition and I'm a bystander, watching like I'm having some kind of out-of-body experience _in_ my body. I can feel the panic filling my chest, but the rest of my body doesn't react. 

I feel sure that this is going too far too fast. 

Because even when I haven't been able to fully admit it to myself, I've known it's true: I have feelings for Skye. Real, honest-to-Odin feelings. Unplugging-her-wi-fi-signal-booster-to-get-her-to-spend-time-in-my-room feelings. Picturing-us-on-a-Saturday-morning-drinking-coffee-and-eating-donuts-in-a-much-bigger-and-much-more-comfortable-bed feelings. 

And now, here I am, completely blowing it, practically assaulting her in the kitchen. My chest tightens painfully as the panic rises. 

Surely this will make things awkward. There are certain ways to approach feelings like these. Talking, discussing, moving slowly, etc. Pouncing on her without any warning is probably not an advisable method. 

 

I want to walk away, _need_ to walk away, and yet I can't step back.

 

The air changes. I feel the muscles in Skye's shoulders relax, and I could almost swear that she's leaning into my touch. She's turning her head, but it's impossible to tell which way before the sound of footsteps in the hallway snap me out of this bizarre fugue state.

Coulson rounds the corner with May in tow as I jump (actually, literally jump) backwards, removing myself from Skye as quickly as humanly possible. Considering the force with which I slam into the wall behind me, however, I may have achieved some suspiciously superhuman speed. Fortunately, it doesn't hurt. I'm just relieved to have regained control of my body.

At the sound of my back slamming into the wall, Coulson looks up with one eyebrow raised. 

"Everything alright?"

I nod emphatically, standing up straight. "Fine sir," my voice comes out like a squeak.

Skye is busy looking at me like I've got two heads, but manages to utter, "Just fine, AC."

Coulson appears unconvinced, but wisely decides not to question it. He and May resume moving through the room until they get to the door of Coulson's office and shut it behind them.

It hasn't escaped my notice that Skye's still looking at me, though, her expression questioning. When she opens her mouth to say something, I beat her to it.

"I should get to the lab," I mumble, not looking directly at her. Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and hurry towards the stairs that lead to the lower level of the Bus.

\--------

"Cool outfit. Might consider adding a cape, though."

"Cheeky," I observe flatly, entering the lab. I barely glance at Banner as I head directly towards my locker, where I've stashed an extra pair of clothes in the event of some contamination disaster. I hadn't wanted to venture back to my pod, and opted instead for heading directly to the lab in my pajamas. Honestly, I had hoped that Banner might've opted for a bit of a sleep-in, but I should've known better. I'm rarely that lucky.

"Sleep well?" he asks.

My cheeks flush and I'm glad that I'm not facing him. Truth is, I slept quite well. Better than I've slept in ages on that criminally thin utilitarian S.H.I.E.L.D.-issue "mattress".

"Fine," is all I say in response.

I step into the storage closet near the lockers and quickly change into regular trousers and a spare jumper. 

"I don't know how you guys do it every night," Banner says, his voice raised a little so that I can hear him from inside the closet. "Those beds are only a step above Flinstones furnishings. And it's a small step."

My mind is, admittedly, still in the kitchen and I can't seem to come up with a response other than a noncommittal "hmm."

I emerge from the storage room to stow my pajamas.

"Thought you might like to know that I found something."

My hand stills on the locker handle as move I close it. 

That is very much something I'd like to know.

I turn quickly to face him. 

"What?"

"Your, um, 'condition' isn't a product of the radiation. It's another element. The radiation's just accelerating the reaction."

Glaring at him, I mutter, "You could've opened with that," and move quickly to stand over his shoulder as he points out his evidence on the screen.

"What is it? The element, I mean."

"No clue. But your radiation levels aren't astronomic and they're decreasing. Both good signs. This could be temporary after all."

I can hardly contain my relief as I plop gracelessly onto a stool and cover my face with my hands. "Thank God," I breathe.

Banner chuckles, "You know, there are plenty of people all over the world who would kill to have abilities like you and I." He pauses and a hint of melancholy look washes over his features, "but I know what you mean." A moment later, that look is gone. "So," he presses on, "unless there are any more 'symptoms', I say we just ride it out and see if the whole thing doesn't disappear by the weekend."

It's hard to place the feeling that I have just then, and before I have a chance to dwell on it further, Fitz comes crashing into the lab, effectively cutting off anything I had planned to say in response.

"Jemma. Simmons," he breathes unevenly, clearly in even worse physical shape than I am and not exactly suited to running around the Bus. "I can't. Believe. You."

Banner looks at me questioning, and I know my expression is telling him that I have absolutely no idea what Fitz might be talking about.

Fitz manages to catch his breath presses on, undeterred. "I mean, I know you have a very strict non-meddling policy when it comes to, well, everything," he gives me a pointed look that tells me how stupid he thinks the Prime Directive is, then continues. "But bloody hell, this time you really didn't need any prodding at all."

Banner, confused, cuts in.

"I think I'm missing something?"

Fitz turns to Banner as if he's just noticed he's here, but grins excitedly. "Simmons kissed Skye," he says quickly, barely able to contain his smugness and glee. 

Banner turns to me, nodding encouragingly. "Way to go, Simmons."

I open my mouth to explain, but Fitz isn't finished.

"I mean, it was just on the cheek, granted. But you should've seen her. She told me all about it," he shakes his head, "her face was about two seconds from splitting right in half. She said some nonsense about yoghurt and smoothies and blenders." 

I can feel my face reddening as I become more horrified with each passing second.

"Though she did mention you ran out on her, so you may want to clear that up."

Not for the first time during my career with S.H.I.E.L.D., I wish that we had some kind of technology that would enable the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

"It wasn't like that," I say quietly.

"I know," Fitz responds, not catching on. "That's what I told her. I said you probably just forgot that you'd left something in the centrifuge and had to tend to it."

It takes some serious effort not to roll my eyes. _I_ never leave anything in centrifuge. _Fitz_ , on the other hand, does it frequently.

"No, I mean it wasn't me," I correct. "In the kitchen. It was my body but I wasn't the one doing it."

Fitz gives me a look like I've sprouted an extra head. "What do you mean?" he questions. "'Course it was you. Unless you've got an LMD running around. And I know you don't because they're banned and you hate breaking rules."

Banner leads forward on his stool, suddenly interested. "What do you mean, Simmons?"

I ignore Fitz's comments about rule-breaking and turn to Banner. "I mean, it wasn't me. It was like some out-of-body experience. Or a fugue state."

"You're sure?" Banner asks, as if simply reconsidering might make it less true. Or worrisome.

I nod, "Positive."

Looking back and forth between Banner and I, Fitz asks, "Am I the one missing something now?"

Banner grabs a light from the table and shines it into my eyes, inspecting my pupils and checking my reflexes. "How long did it last?" he asks.

"Not very. Maybe thirty seconds."

"Did you feel anything?"

I shake my head, "No, not really. Panic, mostly. But nothing physical. No pain. Just…no control."

"First time it's happened?"

"That I know of, yes."

Banner nods grimly. "Perhaps our congratulations were a bit premature."

Fitz seems to catch on then. "Is this about the fungus?" He turns to me, "Simmons, is there something you're not telling me?"

And just like that, the guilt sets in. 

Ever since primary school, we've told each other everything. No secrets. Nothing could hurt us as long as we were on the same page. 

I have to tell him. Coulson will just have to understand letting one more person into the Circle of Trust.

"I've been infected. And so far, all we can tell is that the same thing that was happening to the spores is happening in my blood." 

I'm finding it surprisingly hard to explain it, but Banner comes through with a more visual example in the form of throwing a tray a test tubes at my head. I catch it easily, managing to keep any of them from falling and breaking. Setting them down, I glare at Banner for good measure. He seems to think this is some kind of party trick.

Fitz looks on in disbelief. "You mean you're, like--"

"Enhanced is the word we're going with right now," Banner supplies. "Simmons," he steers the conversation back to the matter at hand, "do you remember what happened just before the, er, 'incident'?"

I think back. "Nothing, really," I shrug. "We were in the kitchen. Skye'd forgotten to put the lid on the blender, so naturally there were bits of smoothie everywhere. She'd said she was trying to make us breakfast and she was in my jumper, covered in yoghurt and beating herself up over it. And I just tried to make her feel a bit better about it."

Fitz's devilish grin returns, "You did that all right."

I want to enjoy it. Really, I do. I've wanted to be close to Skye, to _kiss_ Skye for months. 

But not like this. Not when it wasn't me. I kissed her, but _I_ didn't kiss her. 

If something ever happened with me and Skye, I don't want to remember our first kiss being something I hadn't initiated on purpose. This feels wrong somehow.

Banner seems to read my mind. "These things don't happen out of nowhere, most of the time," he says. "Odd as they are, they're typically just amplified inner motivations. Nothing your body does can be done without express permission from somewhere in your brain." He smiles warmly.

I return his smile weakly, hoping he's right but not feeling entirely comforted.

"So let me get this straight," Fitz chimes in, "You got infected by spores, they've turned you into a superhero, you kissed the girl you've been pining after for _months_ , she's completely over the moon about it and you're _still_ finding a way to get up in arms?" He throws his hands up in the air and leaves the lab, muttering, "Only you, Jemma Simmons. Only you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohman. Looks like the super fungus might be turning Simmons into a suave Skye-seducing machine. But is that really the way she wants this to play out?
> 
> Time will tell. 
> 
> For now, I'm sorry it wasn't longer. And I'm sorry it wasn't all Skimmons. You guys deserve thousands and thousands of words of Skimmons goodness and I disappeared on you. 
> 
> But I'm still writing! New chapter up as soon as I can manage it.
> 
> Until then, you're all the most lovely, incredible, sweet people and readers. I love hearing from you. Never change <3


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